Edward Cullen Wallpaper Novels & Stories

"Redo them. If I see another mistake, you’re gone." The woman paled. "Y-yes, sir." Edward leaned back, watching as she scrambled away. Pathetic. He thrived on fear. On order. On control. It was why he was untouchable. And why Abigail Elijahhad no idea what she had just walked into. Night fell by the time Edward arrived home. His penthouse was silent, the staff moving discreetly in the background. But something was different. Then he saw it. Suitcases. Lined up near the grand staircase.

CHAPTER NINE The Necropolis Mr. Cillian’s office was unbelievably posh and impossibly clean. Large, open drapes bordered the windows, and the immense oak desk looked as though it had not shed a single splinter. The walls were covered with finely-framed photos of Mr. Cillian shaking hands with famous thespians, grinning jovially at the camera. In the corner of the room, a gramophone blared a fluffy tune.

She turned around to touch the door and said in astonishment, “Why is it so heavy?” Edward smiled calmly and explained, “It’s bulletproof.” It seemed like it did more than just protect one from bullets. Vivian had a slight look of astonishment on her face, but she did not pursue the inquiry anymore. She made her way to him and sized up the decor in the room in a carefree manner. Her eyes lit up involuntarily when her gaze landed on the huge, looming bookshelf against the wall. She inched closer and raised her head ever so slightly to scrutinize it.

Even in his wildest dreams, Edward had never fantasized about joining Walter and the Campbells as a family. "Madam, Mr. Walter is very busy. He'll be here early in the morning tomorrow," Ezra said with a smile. "What kind of father is he? How could he come only on the day of his son's wedding?" Dahlia protested half-heartedly. Edward burst into laughter. "It's alright, Mrs. Emerson. I understand that Mr. Walter has a lot on his plate." Just then, Cecily and Austin came over hand in hand. The moment she saw the decorations in the bedroom, she grinned cheerfully and thanked everyone present.

Nothing. But Edward didn’t give up. He knelt beside the bed frame and started tapping the floorboards, checking seams, feeling along the underside of the mattress. "No offense," I whispered, "but you look like you’ve done this before." He gave a tiny, crooked smile. "Long story." Then—tap tap—his knuckles hit something hollow. "Hold on…" He crouched lower, reaching behind the bed. "There’s a hole in the wall here." He pulled out a small bundle of trinkets—buttons, beads, a broken bracelet—and several crumpled papers.

Light spilled through the gap. Emma hesitated. Then pushed it open. The sight inside stopped her cold. Edward sat behind his desk. The entire surface was covered in photographs. Hundreds of them. Old albums. Loose pictures. Stacks of memories spread across polished wood. A coffee cup sat forgotten beside them. Completely untouched. Cold. Edward himself looked exhausted. His shirt was wrinkled. His tie missing. Dark circles beneath his eyes. As though sleep had never found him. For several seconds neither of them spoke.

"Okay, it's up to you." Then walked effortlessly to the bathroom. So after finishing breakfast, Edward immediately brought Chloe to his residence. He was carrying the woman to one of the housings in the middle of London. Chloe was led to enter a two-story minimalist design house getting out of the car. There were already maids who greeted the two of them. "Welcome, Mr and Mrs Cullen." Edward flashed a smile. He was always polite to everyone. Do not care about relatives, co-workers, friends, or subordinates. "Is the master bedroom ready?" he asked as he walked in. Lucia, the housekeeper who looked the oldest among the workers, nodded. "Yes, Mister. We have prepared everything as ordered befor

Chris glanced at the inside of the house and wanted to go in, but Edward had no intention of letting him in. "Will it kill you to let me in?" Edward looked at him without moving his eyes. "You're not welcome." "I..." Forget it. Edward had always had a foul mouth. He had to endure it! Chris took out his phone and removed another one, he presented the phone to Edward. "Look. It is the phone that I wanted tell you about. Don't you think it looks similar to Alexia’s painting of you?" Edward lowered his head and glanced at the phone in Chris's hand. When he saw the face of the drawn on the wallpaper of the phone, he frowned. It was an old phone in a pink colour and a baby doll hang as the holder.

I threw the shirt away from me like it had burned me, watched it land on the floor across the room. Stood there breathing hard, staring at it like it was a weapon. I forced myself to look away from it, turned my attention to the room instead, really taking it in for the first time. And immediately noticed something deeply concerning about Axel Edgewood’s design choices. Everything was black. The furniture was black. The walls were black. Even the curtains were black, heavy fabric that probably blocked out every bit of natural light when closed. But all of that aside, who the hell had black walls?

, maybe two days, she groaned. "Fine," He sighed, "We can spend the next holiday here," His words lit up Evelyn's face. She took him by the hand and followed his lead through the stairs that lead to the rooms. Entering the first floor on the east facade and walking through the grand hallway adorned with a royalty red carpet with golden inscriptions on its surface her jaws dropped at the large wallpaper design with Lycanthropes and witches themes in the frieze on the high golden glowing ceilings and walls.