Papa knocked at her door and entered the room. He found the room was dark and gloomy. Veronica was writing something in her diary sitting by a table, lit by a study lamp. He filched. But kept his voice even and approaching from the backward said, "Why my princess, what is she entering in the diary?"
She shifted in her seat as she knew father disliked her idea of keeping a diary – which anyone could read. But she could not help herself. Ronald had taught her to do so from the very childhood and her diaries were the records of her anger and joy; wrath and sadness; angst and self-pity.
"Nothing, Papa," she said.
Papa said, "It is ok. You can share with me."
She remained silent for a moment.
Papa understood it was his turn to say something when they had had enough silent communions, "Look princess, it is very normal to burst out. I could see myself too that old publisher was a lecher. You did burst out when things went awry – you had no second plan then. It is all right. Do not worry over that matter anymore. Learn from your mistake. – I hope you have completed reading the manuscript yourself?"
Veronica nodded yes.
"Good job. Get mentally prepared. Within minutes we will meet in this room. You will be handed a great responsibility," Papa said and patted her back.