Falling at 30,000 feets
On Valentine's Day, love is in the air-but so is danger.
At 30,000 feet, trainee captain Jane Harley proves she's more than just a rising pilot when she navigates a terrifying turbulence that leaves passengers shaken and lives hanging by a thread. Calm under pressurej and fiercely capable, Jane becomes the unexpected hero of Flight 423.
But while she's saving lives in the sky, fate is already setting something far more complicated in motion.
Among the passengers is the powerful and ambitious mother of Jayden-Aurelia Air's largest shareholder-whose midair health crisis is only the beginning of a chain of events. Grateful and intrigued, she sets her sights on Jane... not just as a hero, but as a future daughter-in-law.
Jayden, a grounded pilot with a sharp mind and guarded heart, has no interest in his mother's schemes-until one unexpected name changes everything.
In a world of wealth, expectations, and high-altitude emotions, two lives are about to collide.
Love, ambition, and fate take flight in Falling at 30,000 Feet.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 33
"Don't tell me... you're here for Micheal ?"
Jayden froze mid-step. For a split second, genuine alarm flashed across his face-his eyes widening slightly, his jaw tightening. His lips parted as if he was about to speak, but no words came out immediately. Then, just as quickly, he composed himself-his expression smoothing into something thoughtful, almost casual.
"...Yes," he said finally, nodding slowly as he turned to face her. "He called this morning-said it was urgent, so I took leave to come see him. "
Jane's expression darkened instantly, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Anger flared in her eyes-hot, protective.
"You know how he treated you before," she snapped, taking a step closer. "... why would you even come see him? No-absolutely not. I won't let him use you again."
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him along toward the parking lot, her grip firm but not painful.
"You're coming back with me."
"Hey-" Jayden stopped her gently but firmly, his fingers wrapping around her wrist just enough to halt her movement without hurting her. His touch was warm, steady-grounding.
"It's not what you think," he said, his tone softening as he looked down at her, his eyes warm and reassuring. "He explained everything. Last time... something fell on the floor. He asked me to check it out. That's all...you just misunderstood "
Jane narrowed her eyes, studying him carefully-taking in the way he held her gaze, the slight furrow of his brow that looked genuine. She'd learned to read his expressions over the past few months, and this didn't look like a lie.
"...Really?" she asked, her anger beginning to fade into concern.
Jayden smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face that the wind had blown loose. "We grew up together-he was like a brother to me once. What kind of thoughts could he possibly have about me? You just misunderstood the situation last time."
Jane hesitated, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She knew how much Jayden valued loyalty, even to people who didn't always deserve it.
Then she sighed, releasing his hand with a small shake of her head.
"Fine," she said reluctantly. "But still... better safe than sorry. Be careful with him, okay? He's not the same person you knew."
Her voice softened at the end, genuine concern slipping through despite herself. She reached up to adjust his collar, her fingers lingering for a moment against his neck.
Jayden nodded, covering her hand with his own. "I will. Promise."
She turned away, heading toward her car with one last worried glance over her shoulder.
And the moment her eyes left him-
Jayden exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly as relief washed over his face. He ran a hand through his hair, his expression shifting from calm reassurance to something heavier, more burdened.
Back in his office-located on the top floor of the executive wing, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire airport-Jayden's expression had completely changed. Cold. Sharp. Every trace of the gentle man Jane knew was gone, replaced by the focused intensity of someone who held real power.
"Send Michael in," he ordered into his intercom, his voice crisp and authoritative.
Moments later, Michael stepped in, barely closing the door before Jayden spoke again, not even looking up from the stack of documents on his desk.
"Instructor Norman Badwell," Jayden began, his voice edged with barely contained anger. "Repeated harassment of female staff. Abuse of authority. Coercion and attempted assault. I've just received a full report." He slammed a thick file onto the polished wood desk, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "There are multiple anonymous reports dating back six months. Why wasn't he fired?"
Michael didn't look surprised. He'd already heard about the incident in the corridor.
He shrugged lightly as he took a seat across from the desk, leaning back casually despite the tension in the air.
"His aunt's cousin's sister-in-law... is married to your second cousin on your mother's side," he said matter-of-factly. "The family pulled strings to keep him on, said he was 'going through a tough time' and deserved another chance."
Jayden's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face before being replaced by pure irritation.
"Absurd," he said sharply, pushing the file across the desk toward Michael. "Blood ties don't excuse predatory behavior. Not in this company."
"File formal charges for workplace harassment and assault," Jayden continued immediately, his fingers steepled as he looked out the window at the tarmac below. "Track down the whistleblowers-offer them protection, legal support, whatever they need. Hire top lawyers to represent them. I don't want a single one of them intimidated into silence by his family or anyone else."
He pushed another thinner file across the desk-this one marked with Jane's name.
Michael caught it easily, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. "Got it."
Then, glancing up with a teasing smirk, he added, "Heroic move... protecting your lover like this, huh?"
Jayden didn't respond. He simply looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as he focused on the aircraft moving across the runway.
Michael chuckled under his breath, standing up and stretching. "Though honestly... that scumbag should've been axed a long time ago. I've had complaints about him from flight attendants and new pilots for months."
"Then get moving," Jayden said, shooting him a pointed look that made Michael raise his hands in surrender.
Michael paused at the door, his playful demeanor fading slightly as he looked back at his friend.
"...What's with you today?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe. "All soft and gentle with Jane-but snapping at me like I owe you money."
Jayden rolled his eyes, then forced a stiff smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Satisfied?" he added, trying to make his voice light.
Michael leaned in, squinting at him dramatically. "Stop that," he said immediately, backing away toward the door. "That smile is disturbing. It looks like you're in pain."
He stood up straight, giving Jayden an exaggerated wave. "I'm leaving. Immediately. For my own safety-and to spare myself from whatever weird mood you're in."
With that, he turned and hurried out, closing the door softly behind him.
Jayden didn't stop him. He sat in silence for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the window as he ran through every possible way to tell Jane the truth about who he really was.
Later that day, Jane walked across the tarmac after her flight to Denver, her cap tucked under her arm as she loosened her tie. The wind tugged lightly at her hair, carrying the familiar smell of jet fuel and hot asphalt as she moved with her usual composed stride toward the crew building.
"Jane!"
She turned, her hand automatically going to adjust her uniform as she saw Norman running toward her-his shirt wrinkled, his tie askew, his face pale and frantic. Tears clung to his eyelashes, tracks of dirt and what looked like dried blood staining his cheeks.
"Jane, please-" he said, skidding to a stop in front of her and pressing his palms together in a desperate gesture. "Please talk to Captain Blackwood for me. I was wrong-I was completely wrong. I was blinded by lust, by my own stupidity. If I had known you were under his protection... I would've never touched you, never even looked at you the wrong way."
Jane's expression hardened instantly, her body tensing as she took a step back.
"What are you talking about?" she said coldly, her voice carrying clearly across the quiet tarmac. "You were fired because you deserved it-because you assaulted me and have a history of harassing women. I won't lift a finger for you, and I certainly won't ask anyone else to either."
But Norman wasn't listening. He fumbled with his phone, scrolling rapidly through what looked like text messages and emails. His hands trembled too much to steady it, and he dropped it once before catching it against his chest.
"My sources-" he stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, "they said I was fired personally by Captain Blackwood. That I crossed his wife, and he made sure I'd never work in aviation again."
He failed to find whatever he was looking for and shoved the phone back into his pocket, turning to her again with desperate eyes that darted across her face.
"And the only person I've crossed recently... is you."
Jane stilled, her breath catching in her throat as his words sank in. She stood perfectly still, her hands hanging at her sides as confusion flickered across her face.
"...Captain Blackwood's wife?" she repeated slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Something... wasn't adding up.
You may also like
9.6
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
9.7
For three years, I was the dutiful wife of billionaire Ervin Valdez.
On our third wedding anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, pinned me down, and brutally mocked me.
His mistress, Sylvia, had even sent me a fake ultrasound report to force me out of the picture.
In Ervin's eyes, I was just a vicious, calculating liar who used a pregnancy to trap him into marriage.
He didn't care that I had actually lost that baby, nor did he know the trauma of my gambling father selling me to a dark club where I was assaulted by a stranger.
When I finally handed him the signed divorce papers, giving up all assets, and left the penthouse with nothing but an old suitcase, he just sneered.
"She is playing a game of hard to get. She won't last three days before she comes crying back."
He froze all my bank accounts, let his mistress humiliate me in public, and waited coldly for me to starve and beg.
He thought my entire existence relied on his wealth, completely confident that I would inevitably surrender to his control.
But he was wrong.
I calmly opened my old laptop, bypassed the complex encryptions, and looked at the dozens of unread emails from top-tier global brands begging for my return.
I resurrected my hidden identity as the legendary jewelry designer "R," and walked straight into the top design firm in Manhattan.
"It is time to find myself again."
9.2
After six brutal months, I returned to my Seattle villa, my sanctuary. An unsettling quiet, then a cloying mix of cheap vanilla and baby talc hit me. Pink slippers, a cookbook, and a blonde hair on Nathan's hoodie screamed betrayal.
Unwashed baby bottles and a note from "M" to "feed the baby" confirmed my dread. A baby's cry led me to Misty, holding a baby with Nathan's exact curls. She claimed Nathan called me his "bankrupt ex-wife," my clothes gone, wedding photos crumpled, and his loving text proved his calculated fraud.
Nathan burst in, spewing gaslighting lies, despite finding a deed transfer for *my* house. His blame—that I was a "cold work machine"—only solidified my resolve. My husband used my money, home, and trust to build a new life, systematically trying to erase me. He didn't just cheat; he tried to steal everything. A venture capitalist doesn't just walk away from a hostile takeover.
8.0
"Don't you dare touch me. You bloody monster," Eric whispered glaring at me, which only turned me on the more.
A beautiful smile crossed my lips; luckily for us, his fake mother was so focused on Katherine, she did not know I was fucking her son before her eyes.
"So I am now a monster, huh? That was not what you said yesterday. Or have you forgotten about our hot night?" I asked as I traced my way to his lap again, approaching his groin area.
He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming around. "Damien. I am Katherine's fiancé. your niece" He reminded me as my hands reached his groan, caressing it through the layers of his trousers.
"Yesterday you were Mike's boyfriend, and what did I tell you? I don't give a fuck!," I whispered back. "Now be quiet and try to control yourself" .
Eric's life is thrown upside down when his brother is killed on his coronation day, and he now has to become the king. and he can't because he is gay and he has a boyfriend who he loves dearly, or so he thought until he met Damien Monetro, his fiancée's uncle and his former one-night stand