"You have nothing to be sorry for towards me. Even if you died, it wouldn't matter to me."
The driver of Abigail Hemsworth felt a bit uneasy, "Eldest Miss..."
Those words were indeed a bit too harsh.
Having just brushed past the gates of hell, he was still in shock, and hearing these words felt quite ominous.
Travis Miller pursed his lips in silence for a moment, then raised a hand to wipe his face. Seeing the full red of blood on his hand, he paused, clenched his hand, and let it hang in front of him, turning his head to look at the driver.
"You should take them back first. I'll stay and wait for the traffic cops to arrive..."
"What you should do now is go to the hospital immediately, not wait for the traffic cops."
Elia Hemsworth's voice came through; her eyebrows furrowed, her face cold, exuding low pressure.
