Chapter 1
It was known to all that James Palmer, the heir of the Palmer family, favored women who were skilled at dancing.
Like the red roses in full bloom, their relationships with him were beautiful and juicy.
The problem was that the bloom time for the roses was short, so those women, more often than not, were abandoned by James within one month.
James continued his carefree life till he ran into Emma Smith, who earned her living by dancing in the bars.
Back then, Emma, in an old and whitened dress, had no makeup on her face, but she completely swept James off his feet.
Then, the change in James was shocking. He was no longer a womanizer and persistently wooed Emma in the following four years.
For Emma, he stopped dating other women and lived like a monk.
To marry her, he had a falling out with his family.
He even swallowed his pride and learned to cook for her.
In the sixth year of their marriage, Emma lost her left foot in a car accident caused by Sophia Curtis, a substitute in her dance troupe.
Furious and grieved, James swore to kill the wrongdoer.
Emma called James when their son, Marcus Palmer, vomited blood because of the high fever.
Only then did she discover his affairs. Over the phone, she heard him, who had sworn to seek justice for her, softly soothe Sophia by saying, "Sweetheart, Sophia, don't be afraid. Never will I hurt you.
"I know very well that it was an accident. Come, dance for me. You are the best flamenco dancer I have ever seen."
*****
Shock rooted Emma to the spot. Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a sharp crack.
Marcus couldn't help but sob on the couch. "Mommy, it hurts..." Each of his words was like a strong stab into Emma's heart.
Gritting her teeth, Emma limped over to her son and flinched at his burning forehead.
Agitated, she had sweat all over her forehead and even developed phantom pain from the wound in her left leg.
She scrambled across the floor, picked up her phone, and shouted at it with tears all over her face, "James, where the hell are you? Come home now! Marcus's burning up!
"Did you hear me? Why did you send all the servants away? Marcus is burning up. What should I do now? Hurry home and rush him to the hospital." She cried her heart out.
From the other end of the line came the classical and passionate flamenco, and Emma's desperate cries were drowned by the drumbeats.
James was so absorbed in the dance that he failed to notice that the connection had been made.
"Mommy..." Marcus whimpered, and his face was scarlet red.
Heartbroken, Emma shuddered uncontrollably as she gripped her phone. "James, please answer me... Marcus is severely sick. I can't carry him to the hospital with one leg..."
Crying, she desperately hammered her left leg, which was shorter than her right one.
Her legs had once been long and perfect, but her left foot was now gone, like the pinhole on good porcelain.
It would be a piece of cake for her to send Marcus to the hospital if she had her left foot back.
Crippled, she couldn't even carry Marcus to the doorway, so she had to beg James to come home as soon as possible.
On the other end of the line, the music soared to its climax, and its drumbeat became passionate. Then, all the noises came to a sudden halt.
Emma held Marcus tightly and screamed at the top of her lungs, "James! Can you hear me? James, come home. Take Marcus to the hospital!"
The response Emma got was Sophia's sobs and wheezes. "James, I love dancing so much. It will kill me if I can't dance anymore," Sophia said.
James's tone was soft. "Dear, you are born to dance."
"Didn't you say that you would get back at me for Emma? She lost her foot, so I will become crippled, won't I?" Sophia sobbed.
The next second, Sophia's sobs were muffled.
After a chuckle, James said dotingly, "Nonsense! What a silly girl! With me here, nobody will lay a finger on you."
Emma slumped onto the floor as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest.
Right then, Marcus turned pale and vomited a mouthful of blood. Then, his little arm feebly slid away from Emma.
"Marcus!" Emma shouted with despair. She felt that her world had collapsed in the blink of an eye.
The door was finally forced open, and the paramedics arrived. However, Marcus was already dead.
The paramedics checked up on Marcus and then shook their heads at Emma. "His case was severe. He is dead. Sorry."
Hearing this, Emma blacked out.
Emma recalled her very first meeting with James.
Back then, she was a part-time dancer in the bar. When she stepped down from the stage, a man in an expensive suit handed her a business card with a smile.
"I'm James. What's your name?" James asked.
Emma didn't take the flirtation to heart. She didn't bother to tell James her name, and she left with an excuse.
To her surprise, James was unusually persistent.
He respected and cherished her. She was the apple of his eye.
He quit smoking just because she didn't like the smell of cigarettes.
He left his race car in the corner of the garage because she dreaded extreme sports.