As the autumn moon rose full and silver over the Hudson River, an acoustic trio—violin, guitar, and cello—began playing a slow, romantic waltz beneath the apple trees. Ethan stood up from the head table, walking over to Maya's chair. He bowed with playful, chivalrous grace, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Cross?" Maya had kept Thorne for her professional life, but in private, and to Ethan, she…
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