1945, New York.

You were grateful to everything in the world that you could escape from your small town, which was full of stereotypes and prejudices. Now you're young, a little excited, walking down the street of New York to your first job, and you had a feeling that everything was going to be great.

When you met your boss, he was full of confidence that you had potential, because he was a man who appreciated the little things. He saw from your neat styling, the selection of accessories and the strict but beautiful dress that you are a girl who has class. You had intelligence and beauty. That was all that was needed for his secretary.

"Here we write and edit scripts for future Hollywood and Broadway masterpieces," the man smiled as he told you about his campaign with a spark in his eyes. "This is the holy of holies, dear. I think you'd fit in perfectly, darling."

Suddenly, the door to the office opened and you turned around.

You froze when you saw a young man who looked like a marble statue or like a model from Vogue magazine. You almost opened your mouth, but you remembered your manners in time.

"And this is our Henry. Henry Winter. He's the brain behind our entire campaign. He's a genius, believe me, honey. Our most important screenwriter and editor," the boss said with a smile.

Henry looked down at you and seemed to have already made a decision in his head how to treat you. It was as if he was frozen in time.

"Nice to meet you." Henry said politely but coldly. "You're the new secretary, right?"