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.
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Chapter 36
Michael walked down the tarmac, still chuckling to himself as he scrolled through the photos he had just taken of Jayden. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the concrete, and the smell of jet fuel mixed with fresh cut grass from the nearby median.
"Jayden really fell for Jane this time," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in equal parts disbelief and amusement. "To please her, he's really going all out... pretending to be some unemployed guy looking for security work. If the board ever found out, they'd have a heart attack."
He paused mid-step, staring at one particular photo on his screen-Jayden standing stiffly against the wall, his expression forced into something resembling professionalism, dressed in a plain gray shirt and jeans he'd clearly dug out just for the occasion.
Michael burst out laughing again, leaning against a nearby equipment cart to steady himself. "The mighty chief pilot reduced to this... unbelievable. Next thing you know, he'll be asking me to teach him how to use a metal detector."
Just then, his phone buzzed with a notification-an email from the scheduling department.
He stopped walking immediately.
His smile faded.
"Oh no..." he whispered, already sensing danger as he saw the subject line: FINAL SCHEDULE - MICHAEL TORRES. "Jayden's too stingy for this..."
An air hostess-Maria, one he'd known for years-approached him, her hands clasped in front of her as she carried a thick manila folder.
"Mr. Torres," she said politely, her smile slightly strained as she handed him the file. "This is your schedule for the month. The chief flight officer asked me to confirm it with you personally-said to make sure you received it today."
"Hmm... okay," Michael replied, slipping his phone into his pocket as he took the file. He flipped it open casually, expecting to see his usual mix of day shifts and occasional overnights.
Then paused.
Then frowned.
Then flipped through the pages faster, his eyes scanning the dates and flight routes.
"...Wait."
His brows furrowed deeply, his jaw tightening as he checked again-then again, as if hoping he'd misread.
Every single day-fully booked, no days off scheduled.
Every single slot-assigned to long-haul routes.
And worse...
"All overnight flights?" he exclaimed, looking up sharply as he stared at the list: Tokyo, Dubai, London-all red-eye departures and early morning arrivals. "Am I being treated like a slave? Did I accidentally sign up for a punishment detail?"
He turned to Maria, confusion written all over his face. "Did they mix up my schedule with someone else's? I've never worked this many overnights in a row."
She gave him a tight, slightly nervous smile, quickly taking the file back from his hands as if afraid he'd tear it in frustration.
"The chief flight officer said," she began carefully, choosing her words with care, "the more capable an officer is... the more work they can handle. He mentioned that you've been performing exceptionally well lately, and that these routes need someone with your experience."
She gave a small, quick nod.
"He believes you can handle it. Good luck, Mr. Torres."
And before he could respond-before he could even ask who had approved this-
She hurried off, her steps quick and determined.
Michael stood there, stunned, watching her disappear around the corner.
"...What does that even mean?" he muttered, pulling out his phone again as realization hit.
Slowly.
Painfully.
His face twisted into a grimace of understanding.
"...Jayden."
He immediately pulled out his phone and began recording a voice note, holding it up to his mouth with dramatic urgency.
"Jayden... I was wrong," he said, his voice thick with fake remorse. "I'll never laugh at you again-never call you a lovesick puppy ever again. Give me one more chance. I'll behave. I'll be a melancholic boy-quiet, respectful, no more jokes."
He hit send.
The message failed to deliver-MESSAGE NOT SENT - RECIPIENT UNAVAILABLE.
Michael stared at the screen, his jaw dropping in disbelief.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
"Fuck!"
He stomped his foot in frustration, making a nearby ground crew member glance over in surprise.
Meanwhile, at the cafeteria...
Jane and Jayden sat opposite each other at a corner table, eating quietly. The cafeteria was nearly empty-most staff had already headed home or to their flights. Jane picked at her salad while scrolling through her phone absentmindedly, occasionally taking a bite of bread.
Then suddenly, her face lit up.
"Wow... look at this!"
She lifted her phone excitedly toward Jayden, the screen displaying her monthly schedule in bright colors.
"My schedule for this month is amazing! All day shifts!" she said, smiling brightly as she pointed to the screen. "Early morning departures, late afternoon arrivals-no overnights at all! Other colleagues have mixed day and night rotations... some are even doing back-to-back red-eyes. I don't even know why mine is this good."
Jayden glanced at the screen briefly-he'd personally approved the schedule himself-then returned calmly to his plate of grilled chicken and vegetables.
"Don't worry," he said smoothly, cutting his chicken into neat pieces. "It's a benefit given to newly married employees. Everyone gets it for the first six months-helps them adjust to married life while keeping up with work."
Jane's eyes widened slightly, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth.
"Really? I didn't know that! Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Her smile grew even wider, lighting up her face as she set her phone down.
"That's great..." she said softly, her voice warm with pleasure. "That means I can go home for dinner every night now. I've missed having proper meals together."
She paused, her cheeks flushing slightly as she added, "...Although the cafeteria has improved a lot lately-it still can't compare to home-cooked meals."
The moment the words left her mouth-
She froze.
Her brain caught up instantly, and she felt heat rise to her ears.
I just said that out loud.
I just admitted I like his cooking. And that I want to eat with him every night.
Her ears turned slightly red as she awkwardly rubbed one of them, focusing intently on her salad as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
Jayden looked up at her, his fork still in his hand. There was a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes-followed by something softer, warmer, that made his expression gentler than usual.
Jane avoided his gaze completely, mentally scolding herself. Why would I say that? Will he overthink it? Will he think I'm being too forward?
A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the soft clink of silverware against plates.
Then-
Jayden smiled.
Not his usual composed, polite smile. This one was slower, more genuine-reaching his eyes and making them crinkle slightly at the corners.
"That's right," he said quietly, his voice low and warm. "It's our home."
Jane looked up at him, startled for a second-then forced a small, shy smile that made her eyes sparkle.
"...Yeah. That sounds nice."
They both returned to their food, but the air between them had shifted. Subtly. Warmly. Like a window opening to let in fresh air after a long winter.
Later that night...
Jane sat on the edge of her bed, going through her flight plan for the next day-checking weather patterns, passenger loads, and crew assignments. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room, and her hair was loose around her shoulders, tied back with a simple hair tie.
Her eyes grew heavy as she read through the same paragraph for the third time. She yawned, closing the file and setting it aside on her nightstand with a soft thud.
"Finally..."
She stretched slightly, her arms overhead, before pulling back the covers and preparing to lie down-
Knock. Knock.
The sound was soft but clear, making her pause mid-movement.
"Come in," she said, sitting up straight as she adjusted her pajamas-simple cotton shorts and a t-shirt.
The door opened slowly, and Jayden stepped in.
He was wearing sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, and he was holding a pillow-hugged tightly against his chest as if it were a shield. His hair was slightly messy, as if he'd been running his hands through it.
Jane blinked, staring at him in confusion.
"...What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice laced with sleepiness and bewilderment. "Is everything okay?"
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9.7
I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."
7.3
Ten years ago, I was banished from my pack, branded a whore and a traitor for allegedly drugging and stealing my sister's fated mate.
Now, I was summoned back because my father, the Alpha who disowned me, was dying from a poisoned attack.
Standing by his deathbed, a locked memory finally surfaced—I didn't drug anyone. My husband and I were both victims, poisoned with wolfsbane to force our mating.
But before my father could reveal who orchestrated the setup, his heart monitor flatlined.
My brother instantly shoved me to the ground, pointing a trembling finger at my face.
"You killed him. I will hunt you, I will break you, and I will make your life a living hell."
Even my husband, Kieran, the man I was forced to marry to save our unborn child, walked right past me in the hospital corridor.
He didn't spare me a single glance, choosing instead to gently comfort my mother while I sat bruised and shattered on the cold floor.
I didn't understand why my own family hated me so blindly, and I understood even less who had framed me a decade ago.
What terrified my father so much in his final moments that he couldn't even speak the culprit's name?
Watching my cold husband walk away with the family that abandoned me, the last shred of my naive hope died.
I wiped my tears and stood up. This time, I was going to tear this pack apart to find the truth.
9.3
My husband Hudson had kept me a medicated ghost for three years, convinced I was unstable. But a cheap pink hair clip, tangled with golden blonde hair in his car, ripped through the chemical haze. The bitter pill he forced me to take wouldn't numb the burning truth, only fuel my awakening.
I was an architect once, but now I was just Cora, a docile wife trapped in his suffocating world. When he saw my shock, his concern was sickeningly sweet as he offered another Xanax. I pretended to swallow the poison, letting it dissolve under my tongue, a constant reminder of my awakening.
Back at the mansion, his massive car deliberately blocked mine, a crude barricade confirming his control. Then, a message from an old intern confirmed my darkest fears: this was domestic abuse. He urged me to check Hudson’s closet, to record everything.
I knew then I was living with a dangerous monster, and my denial shattered. The anger burned, fueled by the bitter taste of that undissolved pill.
That night, Hudson walked in, wearing a hideous, sloppily tied red polka-dot tie. It was a clear, undeniable sign of another woman. My architect’s mind was awake, cold and calculating. "Game on, Hudson." I would make him taste this bitterness back a thousand times.
9.3
Candice Luna thought her marriage to Julius Hansen was a lifeline to save her father's struggling company.
She didn't know it was a death sentence until Julius coldly slid divorce papers across his mahogany desk.
His true love, Amina Rowe, was nestled in his arms with a triumphant, mocking smile. The "merger" Julius promised had been a brutal, hostile takeover designed to bleed the Luna Group dry from the inside. Bankrupted and utterly broken, Candice's father stepped off the roof of their corporate tower. Meanwhile, Candice was publicly humiliated, stripped of her dignity, and mocked by all of Wall Street as a discarded stepping stone.
She died in a car accident, her final moments consumed by an agonizing, feral scream. She hated herself for letting her blind devotion destroy the father who had always believed in her.
But when Candice opened her eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room, she realized she wasn't dead.
She was twenty-two again. Three years before the wedding. Three years before her father's suicide.
When Julius's assistant walked in holding a bouquet of blue roses to discuss the preliminary merger, he expected a docile, desperate heiress.
Instead, Candice grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and flung it directly into his smug face.
"Tell Julius Hansen to never, ever send his dogs to my door again."
This time, there would be no engagement. This time, the Hansen family would choke on her family's legacy.
7.0
I was the Stanton family heiress, engaged to the President's son to secure a vital military alliance.
But he cornered me in the White House sitting room, slamming a thick manila folder onto the marble table.
"I said, sign the annulment agreement, Hester."
He looked at me like I was dirt, demanding I step aside so he could be with a manipulative intern named Tricia.
In my past life, I was a naive lamb. I cried and begged him not to end it. My devotion was rewarded with absolute cruelty. He ordered my bones broken and my reputation completely shredded. My trusted assistant forced poison down my throat, and I was left to die with a rope burning my neck.
Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had done everything perfectly for the family. Why did my unwavering loyalty only bring me a gruesome death? Why did the monsters who tortured me get to live happily in the highest seats of power?
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating terror of the noose suddenly washed away. I was sixteen again, staring at the exact same annulment papers.
"Hester, please. Just let us be happy," Tricia whimpered, reaching out her trembling hand.
This time, I didn't cry. I picked up the solid gold fountain pen, stabbed it violently through the center of the contract, and prepared to drag the entire First Family straight to hell.
9.3
My husband of three years dragged me into the freezing autumn ocean because my stepsister claimed I bullied her.
When she faked a sprained ankle in the shallow water, he immediately abandoned me in the roaring waves to save her, not knowing I was eight weeks pregnant.
The icy undertow swept me away, causing a brutal miscarriage. Later in the hospital, my traumatized body started hemorrhaging, and I desperately needed a rare blood transfusion.
My stepsister, who shared my blood type, held my life hostage. She forced my husband to sign our divorce papers before she would donate a single drop.
By the time the blood reached me, my uterus was irreparably damaged. I permanently lost the right to ever be a mother.
"The Anderson family can't have an infertile matriarch."
My own parents said this as they falsified my medical records to protect her. And my husband, blinded by his misplaced loyalty, simply walked away, leaving me with a meager settlement.
I lost my baby, my fertility, and my marriage all in one week. How could the people I trusted most be so completely heartless?
But looking at the divorce papers, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed my name and unsealed my Yale architecture degree.
"I'm in. Send me the files for the Manhattan project."
The weak, pathetic Mrs. Anderson died on that operating table. Crista Cherry is back, and it's time for them to pay.