Pilot Operating Handbook

Sebuah pesawat Airbus A320 tiba-tiba saja menghilang dari pantauan radar. Pilot dan kopilot tewas tersambar petir. Adam, seorang Perwira muda usia 27 tahun berhasil mengambil alih kemudi pesawat. Namun sayang...., pesawat tak mampu menghindar dari jebakan badai elektromagnetik yang telah mendistorsi suatu terowongan ruang-waktu. Pesawat tersedot menuju sebuah portal yang terhubung ke masa lalu. Seluruh penumpang dan awak kabin lenyap. Terhempas di era tahun 40-an...., menyeberangi selat Inggris..., hingga terjerembab di masa perang dunia kedua. Kejadian mengerikan kemudian terjadi dalam pesawat. Ruang kabin penumpang tercemar gas-gas beracun yang telah disusupi arwah-arwah kotor manusia terkutuk. Bau busuk arwah-arwah gentayangan itu menyengat hidung, lalu menyerobot masuk menembus sistem pernapasan. Menggerogoti tubuh semua orang. Mencemari sistem kerja otak dan jantung penumpang hingga membuat mereka sekarat. Tubuh-tubuh penumpang yang sekarat bersekutu dengan arwah-arwah terkutuk itu. Satu persatu dari mereka lenyap dari dalam pesawat. Namun mereka kembali muncul dalam wujud makhluk siluman berkuku panjang. Mengerikan...., makhluk-makhluk itu meneror penumpang yang masih selamat. Adam, yang mempunyai kemampuan supernatural setelah mengalami kecelakaan pesawat Hercules Lockheed C-130 yang dia piloti enam bulan yang lalu itu harus berjibaku untuk menyelamatkan sisa-sisa penumpang yang masih bernyawa. Tak hanya itu....., dia juga harus mampu memecahkan teka-teki berbentuk lingkaran yang terputus di beberapa titik untuk bisa kembali pulang. Titik-titik itu merupakan sederetan peristiwa misterius yang terjadi dalam penerbangan itu. Dan..., untuk teka-teki yang terakhir berhasil dipecahkan oleh Ingrid, gadis cantik juga seorang sarjana Astrofisika asal Austria yang ikut menemani Adam dalam ruang kokpit kemudi pesawat.

I saved the man who destroyed my family. Dr. Emma Lawson has spent five years hating billionaire Damien Cross. His corporate takeover crushed her father's company, shattered her parents' marriage, and forced her to work three jobs just to survive medical school. Then he crashes onto her operating table. Bleeding out. Dying. One slip of the scalpel. No one would question it. But Emma took an oath. Even monsters deserve to live. When Damien wakes with amnesia, his assistant offers Emma $200,000 to pretend she's his girlfriend. Just three days. One merger vote. Then she walks away. Emma agrees. Not for the money. For revenge. What she doesn't expect: Damien without his memories is nothing like the ruthless CEO she imagined. He's vulnerable. Protective. Looking at her like she's his entire world. What she doesn't know: Damien has been watching her for five years. The photo in his wallet. The surveillance files. The reason he destroyed her father's company. It was never about business. It was about protecting the woman he couldn't stop thinking about from a conspiracy that would have killed her entire family. As fake feelings become dangerously real, Emma discovers the truth: their families weren't destroyed by corporate greed. They were caught in a pharmaceutical conspiracy involving illegal human trials, billions in black market research, and a man who will do anything to perfect a drug that was never meant to cure. Some debts are paid in money. Some are paid in blood. But the debt between Emma and Damien? That one can only be paid in truth. She saved his life. He's been saving hers for five years. Now they have three days to save each other.

My husband, Joseph Coleman, falls from the third floor, shatters both legs, and even injures what men fear losing most. I don't rush him to the nearest hospital. Instead, I drive him to a hospital two thousand miles away. In my previous life, Joseph jumped on purpose so the hospital intern he dotes on, Kimberly Parker, could secure a permanent spot by operating on him. He refused the capable surgeons nearby and insisted I take him to the hospital where Kimberly works, just so she can treat him. I turned him down because Kimberly is an untrained intern who got in through connections and has no surgical experience. Joseph had slapped me hard across the face. "I just want to use my injury to help Kim go permanent. Why are you being so petty?" He was dead set on Kimberly treating him. I worried the delay would ruin his legs, so I asked his mother, Diane Lowe, to talk sense into him. But what I never expected was Kimberly jumping from the hospital building when she failed her probation. Meanwhile, Joseph is treated in time, and both legs are spared. On the day he's discharged, I come smiling to take him home, but he runs me down with his car and kills me. As I collapse on the floor, choking on blood, I ask him why. He looks at me like I'm something stuck to his shoe. "If you hadn't stopped me from helping Kimberly go permanent, she never would've died!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Joseph falls and breaks his legs.

I knew perfectly well that people from the Emirates do not eat pork. Yet this time, I watched in silence as my husband's childhood sweetheart insisted on placing a pork dish on the table. In fact, I even supported her decision. In my past life, when our company hosted a welcome banquet for powerful investors from the Emirates, she had been desperate to flaunt her cooking. Against all reason, she forced a pork dish onto the menu. I stopped her then. I explained that pork was forbidden by religious belief, and that offending the investors could cost us everything. If they withdrew their funding, the company's finances would collapse overnight. She took my warning as jealousy. In a fit of rage, she ran out of the banquet hall and was struck by a car, leaving her in a permanent vegetative state. I thought my husband would break down. Instead, he remained calm, stayed through the dinner, and secured the investment in surprisingly calmness. The truth revealed itself later. After the company went public, he brought me abroad under the guise of business, only to drag me onto a medical ship in international waters. As my kidney was cut from my body, I cried and asked him why. His answer came with a slap. "If you hadn't been jealous back then... If you hadn't tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have ended up like that." I died in agony on the operating table. After my death, he used the money from selling my organs to cure his beloved childhood sweetheart, and the two of them went on to live rich, comfortable lives together. And then I opened my eyes again, back to the very day she decided to serve pork to the clients.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

After my physical examination, I'm about to leave the pack infirmary located in my cousin's territory when a heavily made-up healer suddenly grabs my arm. She hisses, "Stop right there! You think you can break something in the infirmary and just run away? No way!" I look at her unfamiliar face and blink, feeling utterly confused. "What did I break?" She points to the crystal potion bottles on the shelves and wrinkles her nose exaggeratedly. "You reek, and your stench has contaminated all the potions, making them unusable! Alpha Xander bought these at a high cost, and all of it is worth 500 thousand dollars. There's also compensation for causing me emotional distress—that's another 200 thousand. "Altogether, that's 700 thousand dollars. Will you pay by cash or card?" My scent is a mix of violet and amber. It's noble and cool, like a winter dusk. Of course, not everyone loves this scent, but "contamination"? Please! I can't fathom why the infirmary in Xander's territory is operating like a scam. I laugh out of anger and say, "I'm Alpha Xander's cousin. I don't pay a single cent in his territory. If anyone has a problem with that, have Xander come say it to my face." But the healer only rolls her eyes. "You bitch, trying to use such lowly tricks to get my Alpha's attention? You wish! If you don't pay up today, I'll strip you naked and throw you onto the street so that everyone can smell how foul you are!" She has no idea who she's threatening. I take a deep breath and quickly contact my Beta. "Tell Xander—either banish this healer from the pack, or I'll banish him."

I fell in love with a cold, taciturn tattoo artist named Henry Kane. So I deliberately damaged my tattoo again and again, picking at the skin and reworking the design, just to see him a few more times. By the third visit for touch-ups, scrolling comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: “I’m dying of laughter. This desperate female lead literally destroyed her freshly tattooed skin just to see the male lead again, and she still didn’t dare confess her feelings.” “Henry Kane is actually the embodiment of an ancient ferocious beast who sat on mountains of gold and silver but refused to spend them, choosing instead to open a tattoo studio to experience mortal life.” “He looks icy and distant, but his possessiveness has long since maxed out.” “He was just afraid his violent nature would scare his woman away.” I looked at the man in front of me, who was lowering his head as he wiped down the tattoo machine, and he did indeed give off an unmistakable keep-your-distance aura. But the comments claimed that he wanted to possess me? “Um… Excuse me?” The man tilted his head slightly, and under the weight of his deep gaze, the confession lodged in my throat. My mind short-circuited, and I blurted out, “I… I wanted to tattoo it on my lower back this time.” In an instant, the comments exploded in joy. “Woohoo! We’re taking off!” “Lower back, you say? That’s a sensitive spot! Can this pure-hearted ferocious beast really hold back?” “Good grief, straight to the undressing scene! This cunning move by the female lead is operating on a whole other level!” The man’s hand gripping the tattoo machine jerked to a sudden stop, and the air seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Then he answered, his voice slightly hoarse and unreadable, “Alright.”

After five years of marriage, the doctor told me I was pregnant. It was something I had waited for so long. Yet, along with that good news came a nightmare. My medical tests showed that I had cancer, and it had already spread. The doctor gave me less than a month to live. I froze, gripping the report so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down my face as I thought about how my unborn child would never get to feel a mother's embrace. My grief was interrupted by the ping of an incoming text message. It was from Mom. [Since you're so selfish and refuse to donate a kidney to save Nattie's life, you should divorce Davon. Let him marry Nattie instead. At least that way, you can fulfill her dying wish.] My tears fell harder. It was not that I refused to donate a kidney to Natalie Rivera, my sister, who was in the final stages of kidney disease. In truth, I only had one kidney left. Five years ago, I had already given one to Dad. Now, with my life counting down to its final days, I decided that I would donate my remaining kidney to Natalie. I would also let my husband, Davon Parker, go with her. Before I went into surgery, my parents praised me for finally being thoughtful, saying I had finally learned to care about my sister. They said that once the surgery was over, the whole family would go on vacation together. Davon even said he was proud that I was no longer selfish and promised he would make it up to me in the future. None of them knew I did not have a future. After the surgery, what would be pushed out of the operating room would be a cold, lifeless body.