Jiang Chinan knew all too well that she was the intended victim of a premeditated murder attempt, and he could not stop his mind from racing about what might have happened if she had actually crashed. If she had been maimed or killed on the highway because of his petty malice, he would have been a direct killer.
The crushing weight of that realisation left him feeling physically sick.
That specific terror was the exact reason Jiang Chinan had locked himself in his room and refused to come down for family dinner. He knew Qiao Meixia would be seated at the table, and his guilty conscience made facing her an absolute impossibility.
He had assumed she would already be safely tucked away in her bedroom by this late hour, which was why he had finally mustered the courage to sneak downstairs to grab some food. He certainly had not expected to run straight into her on the stairs.
