The Bloodline of Boston and the Secrets Hidden Beneath Sullivan Diner
“I know my grandfather worked at Sullivan’s Diner for forty years,” I said, looking directly at Silvio.
Silvio’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Your grandfather?” he asked. “Who was he?”
“Thomas Kelly,” I said.
A brief silence fell over the room, broken only by the steady drum of rain against the leaded glass windows.
Silvio looked at me with a new expression, one of quiet recognition.
“Thomas was a good man,” Silvio said slowly. “He kept many secrets for the Romano family.”
“He kept the most important one,” I said.
Leo stepped forward, his face flushing red.
“This is nonsense,” Leo said. “We don’t have time for family history lessons. Sign the paper, Clara.”
He used my name like a threat.
I looked down at the document on the desk.
If I signed it, Leo would have the legal right to take everything, including the twins.
If I didn’t sign it, I wasn’t sure any of us would leave this library alive.
“I need to check his bandage again,” I said, dropping the pen onto the desk.
“You just checked it,” Leo said, his voice rising.