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 37
"Uh..." Jayden began, his voice lower than usual as he shuffled his feet slightly, avoiding her gaze. The pillow he held was clutched so tightly its corners were wrinkled. "Can I come in and sleep with you?"
The question hung in the air, simple but heavy with unspoken meaning. The warm glow from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, making his expression harder to read.
Jane swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She'd been half-asleep a moment ago, but now she was wide awake-every nerve ending in her body tingling with awareness.
For a moment, she said nothing. Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her robe-she'd pulled it on over her pajamas when she heard his knock-as her thoughts spiraled.
This is normal... we're married... this was bound to happen sooner or later... this was always the next step...
She inhaled quietly, her chest rising and falling slowly as she forced herself to relax.
"...Sure," she said at last, her voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She adjusted her robe instinctively, pulling it closed a little tighter as she sat a little straighter against the headboard.
Jayden stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. The floorboards creaked gently under his weight-familiar sounds from the months they'd spent living in this house, but now they felt charged with new tension.
Each step he took toward the bed made Jane's heart pound harder against her ribs. Oh, get a grip, Jane, she scolded herself internally. It's not a big deal. People do this every day.
Jayden reached the bedside and carefully placed his pillow down next to hers, adjusting it with unnecessary precision-smoothing the case, tapping it into place-clearly trying to buy time. From the corner of his eye, he stole a quick glance at her, then immediately focused back on the bedding.
Then, slowly, he slipped under the blanket-keeping a respectful distance between them, his body angled slightly away as he lay down on his back. The space between them was easily wide enough for another person to fit comfortably.
Safe.
Too safe.
Jane followed, lying down stiffly on her back, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She kept her hands clasped in her lap, her body rigid as a board.
They both stared at the ceiling.
Silent.
Neither moving.
Neither daring to close the gap. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the air conditioning and their quiet, measured breathing.
Seconds stretched into minutes.
Then-
Jane turned slightly toward him, her shoulder brushing against the sheets as she shifted.
"Well..." she began, her voice hesitant and barely above a whisper. "You go first."
Jayden turned his head, meeting her eyes for a brief second-his dark gaze warm but uncertain-then quickly looked away, clearly just as unsure of what to do next as she was.
Jane immediately turned back to the ceiling, swallowing nervously as she stared at the same water stain she'd been meaning to have fixed for weeks.
Another pause. Long enough that Jane began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep.
Then-
Jayden shifted. He propped himself slightly on his elbow and leaned toward her, his movement slow and deliberate.
Jane's breath caught in her throat. Her hands clenched into fists under the blanket as she watched him draw closer, his face illuminated by the faint light from the hallway under the door.
His face drew closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He lowered his head-
Jane's eyes widened, and instinctively-her hand shot up, pressing her palm gently but firmly over his mouth.
"Wait-" she said quickly, her voice a little too loud in the quiet room as she avoided his gaze.
Jayden blinked in confusion, pulling back slightly as he looked at her hand covering his lips.
"...What?" he asked, his voice muffled slightly before she lowered her hand.
Jane's voice faltered, her cheeks flushing faintly pink even in the dim light. She fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, her eyes fixed on the pillow between them.
"Did you... buy that...?" she trailed off, her words stumbling over each other.
"Buy what?" Jayden asked, his brows knitting together in genuine confusion as he propped himself up fully, looking at her with concern.
Jane's face burned brighter now, and she finally managed to force the words out in a rush.
"I-I mean..." she stammered, still not looking at him. "... you know. My career is just starting-I'm building up my flight hours,... I'm not ready for kids yet..."
The words tumbled out awkwardly, leaving her feeling exposed and foolish.
A beat of silence followed. Jayden sat still for a moment, processing her words-then his expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. A quiet, gentle smile formed on his lips.
"Jane," he called gently, reaching out as if to touch her arm then pulling his hand back again.
"...Hmm?" she responded, finally glancing at him-her eyes wide and embarrassed.
"If you're not in a hurry," he said calmly, his voice warm and reassuring, "I can wait. For as long as you need."
She blinked, her confusion clear on her face. "What do you mean?"
Jayden didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned closer again-slowly, so she had time to pull away if she wanted to.
Jane froze. Her eyes fluttered shut, bracing herself-her heart hammering against her ribs.
But instead of her lips-
She felt something light. Warm. Gentle.
A kiss. On her forehead. Soft and brief, like a butterfly landing on her skin.
Her eyes opened slowly, her breath catching as she looked up at him. His face was close enough that she could see the faint lines around his eyes, the warmth in his dark gaze.
"Until you're ready," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I won't touch you. I'll wait. We can take this as slow as you need."
Then he smiled-soft and affectionate-and without another word, he shifted back to his side of the bed, pulling the blanket up to his chest as he lay down on his back again. That careful, respectful distance remained between them.
Jane lay there, stunned. Her heart was still racing-but for a completely different reason now. Warmth spread through her chest, unexpected and unfamiliar, making her feel light and a little breathless.
Then-
Her brows furrowed slightly as realization hit her full force.
Damn it...
She pulled the blanket over her face in embarrassment, burrowing into the sheets until only her hair was visible.
I misunderstood everything...
"So when he said 'sleep together'... he really meant just sleep..." she muttered into the fabric, her voice muffled and mortified. She buried herself deeper under the covers, wishing the bed would swallow her whole.
Just then-
A soft beep broke the silence, cutting through the quiet of the room.
Jayden reached for his phone on the nightstand, his movements quiet so as not to disturb her. The screen lit up faintly in the dark, casting a cool blue glow across his face.
A message notification from an unknown number.
His eyes scanned it briefly-then paused. The faint smile that had lingered on his lips faded-just slightly-replaced by an expression that was hard to read in the dim light.
On the screen, a single line read:
"Mandy will be back tomorrow."
Jayden's fingers stilled around the phone, his thumb hovering over the screen as he stared at the words.
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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.