
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 40
Jayden turned sharply toward his mother, his expression tense and serious-every muscle in his jaw tight with barely contained panic.
Eleanor froze for a split second, her gaze flicking from his face to the window where Jane's figure was clearly visible on the stone path. Then immediately understood. The carefully maintained composure of a Blackwood matriarch fell into place, smooth as silk.
Without wasting another moment, she gently grabbed Mandy's arm, her touch warm and familiar. "Mandy, darling," she said sweetly, forcing genuine warmth into her voice even as her eyes darted toward the door, "why don't we go upstairs and talk for a while? We haven't seen each other in so long-I've been dying to hear about your work in Singapore. I hear you've been making quite a name for yourself in aerospace design."
Jayden cast Mandy a nervous glance, his fingers twitching at his sides-silently praying she wouldn't insist on staying, wouldn't notice the way his shoulders were coiled tight as a spring.
Outside the tall glass windows, Jane was already approaching the estate. Her steps were steady, purposeful-she'd walked this path once before when delivering a package for Bob, but today she seemed to move with more confidence, her uniform crisp, the file clutched neatly against her chest.
Closer.
Closer.
Eleanor quickly wrapped an arm around Mandy's shoulders and guided her toward the sweeping staircase, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. "How have you been lately?" she asked, peeking into Mandy's face with exaggerated interest as they ascended, her hand pressing gently to keep Mandy's gaze forward.
Mandy frowned slightly, casting a curious look back toward the foyer. "Is everything alright? I thought I heard someone at the door."
"Just the staff," Eleanor said smoothly, steering her around the banister. "Now tell me-have you met anyone nice over there? Your mother and I have been talking about grandbabies..."
Only after they disappeared around the corner and their voices faded up the stairs did Jayden finally exhale, the breath whooshing out of him like he'd been holding it underwater.
Immediately, he rushed toward the front door, his dress shoes silent on the polished floor. He bent slightly, peering through the peephole-his eye narrowing as he saw her standing there, her head tilted slightly as she studied the intricate carvings on the doorframe.
Outside-
Jane raised her hand and knocked lightly, three precise taps that echoed in the quiet morning air. "Mr. Blackwood?" she called politely from outside, her voice carrying clearly through the thick wood. "Are you home? I'm here to deliver some documents-Bob from operations asked me to bring them personally."
Jayden straightened abruptly, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his temples. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, mussing the carefully styled strands. Think, think-what would I do if I was actually at work right now?
Then suddenly-
An idea struck him.
Quickly, he grabbed at his throat as if clearing it, deliberately deepening his voice until it was several octaves lower, rougher than usual. "Leave them by the door," he replied, keeping his face pressed close to the wood so his voice would carry without her seeing him. "I'm in a meeting and can't be disturbed."
Outside, Jane blinked, her hand pausing mid-movement as she reached for the doormat. Her brows slowly knitted together, a small crease forming between them.
His voice...
Her thoughts stirred uneasily, a familiar cadence catching at the back of her mind. She'd spent enough evenings listening to Jayden talk, enough mornings hearing his voice carry from the kitchen to her bedroom-she'd know that rhythm anywhere, even distorted by a door and forced deepening.
Why does it sound so much like Jayden's?
"Mr. Blackwood," she called again, her voice firmer this time as she stepped closer to the door. "These documents require your signature-they're time-sensitive for the new safety protocols. I need to return them to the office afterward."
Inside-
Jayden mouthed silently: "Shit."
Now genuinely cornered, he looked around frantically, his eyes scanning the foyer for any possible way out of this. The grand clock in the hall ticked loudly-tick... tick... tick...-each second bringing her closer to the truth.
Just then-
The butler, Mr. Green, passed through the luxurious living room carrying a tray with a steaming cup of coffee, his movements as precise and practiced as always as he headed toward the stairs to bring it to Eleanor.
Jayden's eyes lit up immediately.
"Mr. Green-wait!" he called back to Jane through the door-"Just a moment!"-before hurrying toward the older man, his hand already reaching for his wallet.
Outside, Jane relaxed her shoulders slightly, adjusting the file under her arm. "Okay," she replied, though doubt still nagged at her. She glanced down at her wristwatch-her flight was tomorrow morning, but she'd promised Bob she'd get this done today.
"It's just a signing document," she muttered softly to herself, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Do I really need to wait this long? He could have just left instructions with his staff..."
A moment later-
The grand front door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Mr. Green stood there smiling awkwardly, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a noticeable tension that made his hands tremble slightly as he gripped the doorframe.
"Please come in, Miss Harley," he said politely, though his voice came out a little too high, a little too tight.
Jane paused on the doorstep, her eyes sweeping over him carefully. He was dressed in his usual formal butler's attire-black suit, white gloves, immaculate as always-but there was something off about his posture, the way he kept shifting his weight and avoiding direct eye contact.
Is this really Mr. Blackwood?
Her thoughts spiraled. She'd heard descriptions from colleagues-tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes that could freeze you in place. Mr. Green was shorter, slimmer, with silver hair neatly combed back from his forehead.
He doesn't look anything like the descriptions I've heard...
Still, she nodded politely and stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft finality that made her stomach twist slightly.
The estate was breathtaking-more so than she remembered from her last brief visit. High ceilings soared overhead, adorned with intricate moldings and crystal chandeliers that caught the morning light and scattered rainbows across the walls. Luxurious marble flooring-cream with gold veining-reflected the warm golden lights from wall sconces shaped like vintage airplanes. Original paintings of early aviation pioneers lined the hallway, their frames gleaming with gold leaf.
"Please, have a seat," Mr. Green said, gesturing toward one of the cream-colored velvet couches arranged around a dark wood coffee table polished to a mirror shine.
Jane sat gracefully, smoothing her uniform skirt as she did so. Her eyes continued to wander-over the grand piano in the corner, the display case filled with model airplanes, the Persian rug that must have cost more than her entire apartment.
Within seconds, Mr. Green returned carrying a silver tray with a delicate porcelain teacup, a small pitcher of cream, and a plate of handmade shortbread cookies.
"Miss Harley," he said with that same nervous smile, carefully setting the tray down on the table, "please have some tea."
"Thank you," Jane said, reaching for the cup. The porcelain was warm against her fingers, the scent of earl grey rising from the dark liquid.
But when she lifted her eyes-
Mr. Green was still standing directly beside her, smiling a little too wide, staring a little too long. The sudden, unexpected proximity startled her slightly, and her hand jerked involuntarily as she pulled the cup toward her.
Tea sloshed over the rim, spilling across the front of her crisp white uniform shirt in a dark, spreading stain.
"Oh-sorry!" Jane blurted immediately, setting the cup down with a soft clink and reaching for a napkin. "I didn't mean to-your standing there just surprised me, that's all."
"It's alright, it's alright," Mr. Green interrupted quickly, still smiling stiffly as he dabbed at the stain with another napkin. "No harm done. The restroom is down the hallway-first door on your left. You may clean up there."
Jane looked down at the dark blotch spreading across her chest and sighed softly. She'd been so careful to keep her uniform immaculate-now she'd have to explain this to her supervisor.
"...Thank you," she said, standing and smoothing down her skirt again. "I'll only be a moment."
She headed down the hallway, her shoes making soft clicking sounds against the marble. The moment she disappeared around the corner-
Jayden emerged immediately from the study, closing the door quietly behind him. He was already rolling up his sleeves, his tie slightly loosened.
Mr. Green quickly handed him the document, his hands still trembling. "Sir..." he whispered anxiously, wiping his brow with the back of his glove. "You know I'm not very good at lying-I nearly gave myself away just standing there."
But Jayden was already flipping through the file, his eyes scanning the pages urgently until he found the signature line at the back. He pulled a pen from his pocket-his personal fountain pen, the one he used for official documents-and scrawled his name in neat, precise script.
Within seconds, he signed it, then carefully initialed the required pages before handing the file back to Mr. Green. A relieved smile appeared on his face, the first genuine one he'd worn all morning.
"You did well," Jayden said calmly, clapping the older man on the shoulder. "Your bonus has been doubled."
Mr. Green looked both grateful and terrified, nodding quickly as he tucked the file under his arm. "Thank you, sir. I'll... I'll get this back to Miss Harley right away."
Just then-
Eleanor walked back into the living room, adjusting her pearl necklace as she went. "Has Jane left yet?" she asked absentmindedly, heading toward the coffee table to pour herself a cup of tea.
Jayden froze, his smile vanishing instantly.
Mr. Green's face paled to the color of cream, his eyes darting toward the hallway.
And at that exact moment-
Jane stepped out from the corridor, a damp cloth in her hand as she dabbed at the remaining stain on her shirt. She'd used cold water and soap from the bathroom, and while the mark was still visible, it was much lighter than before.
She stopped mid-step, her hand freezing at her chest.
Her eyes landed first on Eleanor. Then-
Her gaze shifted to Jayden, standing in the middle of the room, his pen still in his hand, his eyes wide with shock.
Time seemed to freeze. The grand clock in the hall stopped ticking. The air grew thick and still.
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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