Judge stared at the gold-and-crimson box his mother held out like a prize, both hands holding it as if it were the crown jewels. He knew the drill— he'd seen the same box in Amber's and Liam's hands, though theirs were different colors.
Amber's was peach with gold (a combo he tried not to gag at), and Liam's was a vibrant orange with the same ever-present gold.
Now, his box had crimson mixed in, because clearly, his mother had a bit of a thing for gold. The woman couldn't resist the stuff— her room looked like she decorated her room after her trip to a black Friday sale at a pawn shop and bought the store, and the surrounding hallways were no better.
His gaze flickered from the box to his mother's ashen white eyes, then to Melina's equally intense gaze, and back to the box. With a sigh of resignation, he mentally commanded it to open.
