At 1:30 AM, the waterfront carriage house loft was bathed in the warm, peaceful glow of crackling birch logs and amber track lights. The air smelled rich and inviting—freshly brewed Ethiopian dark roast dripping through a Chemex glass carafe, mingled with the sweet aroma of toasted cinnamon bread and woodsmoke. In the quiet guest room down the hall, Maya Lin was sleeping soundly under heavy goose-down duvets, safe behind triple-locked…
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