Does 'Spring In London' Have A Manga Adaptation?

My boyfriend thought I was just a nerd. When he was drunk, he complained to his friends. “Does it matter if she has good grades? Her family’s broke. You know, I could slap a wad of cash in her face, and she’d come crawling like a dog.” However, I later ended up crying and sitting on a certain someone’s lap. He kissed me from behind my ear down to my neck and chuckled softly. “Hmm, a nerd? Does he even know that you’re actually the daughter of the city’s biggest real estate tycoon?”

Eight years after I broke up with Greyson Tromp, we met in the hospital. He brought his wife for a prenatal checkup and happened to have their consultation with me. I wore a mask and carefully examined the condition of her baby. The intern beside us asked how they ended up together. Elise Jacob said smugly, "You have to fight for a handsome guy. To get the best, you have to fight for it! He used to like someone else. To win his heart, I stirred up trouble between them, causing them to misunderstand each other and gradually drift apart. "Later, they had a really bad argument, and I hid the apology letter he asked me to pass on to that woman. I still keep it as our token of love. That woman was pregnant at the time, and I used every means to get rid of her baby!" After they left, I removed my mask. My hands instinctively rested on my stomach. There was an ugly scar beneath my clothes. It was from when Greyson forced me to abort our baby. A few days later, Greyson came kneeling before me, holding that apology letter and a divorce agreement.

"People are waiting for us downstairs." He whispered to me under his breath, "You will go down and play the happy fiancée." "N-no.." I sobbed, "Liam, please. I can't." "You can and you will." He stated firmly, "I am not your father so do think twice before going against my order." Forceful. Demanding. Arrogant. He is. Liam Alvaro Luciano is everything any living creatures fear, including me. My name is London Naomi Saint and this is a story about how 18-year-old me winded up with the world's most dangerous and ruthless mafia as a husband of mine.

I waited ten years to get married to Emily Stanton. We had applied for a marriage license seven times, and seven times it had been called off. In our circle, we were the golden couple. She had sold her own blood to help cover my hospital bills, and I had stood by her side as she built the Stanton family empire from nothing. On our tenth anniversary, I brought up the idea of finally having a wedding ceremony and making things official again. She just rubbed her temples and tossed her blazer aside. "We'll talk about it later. We've been together this long—why are you still hung up on something like this?" The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. Does every great love eventually fade into something ordinary? The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Then her phone buzzed with a notification. Against my better judgment, I picked it up. The contact name on the screen was impossible to miss: Honey. [Baby, when are you coming home? Jamie says she misses Mommy.] A storm of emotions crashed over me. That's when I discovered Emily Stanton had another WhatsApp account. The woman in those posts was nothing like the one I knew. At the top was a wedding photo—the two of them beaming, radiant. Tucked among the roses she'd received yesterday was a brand-new diamond ring, hidden between the petals. The water in the bathroom stopped. I clenched my fists. Then I forwarded the guy's WhatsApp info to my assistant. [Look into him.]

"Mr. Hamilton, do you have something long and hard? Can I borrow it?" On a spring outing with my daughter, Maddison Hamilton, her best friend, Braelynn Hudson, suddenly asked me that question with a blush. She sat facing me on the grass, her legs spread wide. "The bugs in the grass must've crawled into my skirt. It's driving me crazy... Mr. Hamilton, do you have a stick? Can you scratch it for me?" Looking at her alluring body and snow-white legs, I felt the heat boiling within me. Taking advantage of Maddison's inattention, I quickly pulled down my pants. "What's so comfortable about a stick? I have something better here."

After the Ferguson family went bankrupt, I gave up everything I had and followed Ethan Ferguson to Stormbay. Five years later, he had fought his way back into the top three on the Forbes rich list. He rebuilt the empire everyone believed he had lost for good. He never mentioned marriage, no matter how much we had been through together. I did not understand the reason until the night before Memorial Day. I woke after midnight and saw Ethan standing alone on the terrace of our beachfront house. The cold ocean wind swept through the darkness while he lit three white candles one by one. Their flames flickered softly against the night. He faced the distant horizon across the sea and lowered his voice. “Mom, Dad… I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you again this year.” He paused, and his expression softened. “However, please keep watching over Vivi. Keep her healthy… and bless the two of us with a long, happy life together.” Warmth spread through my chest as I listened. My health had never been good, and every year near Memorial Day, Ethan refused to let me exhaust myself with the long trip home. He always went alone to visit his parents’ graves while I stayed behind in Stormbay. This year, when I saw the homesickness in his eyes, I decided to surprise him. I wanted to make the trip in his place. I never expected my entire world to collapse the moment I arrived at the cemetery. Ethan’s name was carved into the headstone. Beside it was the name of another woman. Olivia Ferguson. My gaze drifted lower. A framed family photograph sat at the foot of the headstone. Its edges had curled from the ocean wind. In the picture, Ethan held a little blond-haired boy in his arms. The child looked no older than three. Olivia stood beside him, smiling softly at the camera. A sharp pain cut through my chest. Only then did I understand the truth. The “Vivi” Ethan prayed for was never Vivian. It had been Olivia all along.