Married to a man you could not physically meet for two years, until one day you got a divorce letter. Surprised, you impulsively stormed to the building on the paper, passed through the halls, pushed the door opened, which made a sound. A man sited on the chair with a cigarette in his mouth glanced over at you, so did his assistant. The man glanced at you up and down, tilting his head slightly with an eyebrow raised. “Another meeting?” He asked, his eyes glancing from his assistant to you.