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The Mafia Boss Finds A Girl Kicked Out In The Rain — Unaware She Is His Rival’s Daughter The click of the lock rang out like a final sentence as Audrey Kensington's body was thrown out of the mansion, into the fury of a November rain night in Boston. The thin shawl slipped from her shoulders, and mud kissed the hem of her dress like a mark of disgrace. Three days. Only three days since her father had been laid to rest, and the woman behind that tightly shut door hadn't waited even one more second. Veronica Kensington, her stepmother, the one who'd worn a black veil at the funeral with eyes as dry as dust, now stood there with a satisfied smile, like someone who'd just completed a rite she'd been waiting for twenty eight years to perform. "Bastard child!" her voice tore through the air, sharper than the storm wind itself. "Your mother was a home wrecker, and you're living proof of shame. What right do you think you've got to stay in this house? You think the Kensingtons are going to shelter some abandoned child like you?" Audrey didn't answer. She'd learned long ago that silence was the only shield against Veronica's rage. But tonight, even silence couldn't save her. In her hands was only the small silver box her father had pressed into her palm before his last breath, his lips moving with words she hadn't been able to catch. "Go!" Veronica screamed, and the door slammed shut with a crack like thunder. Audrey stood there beneath the downpour, feeling each icy drop seep through the fragile fabric. She didn't cry. Her tears had run out the night her father left, when she'd sat at his bedside holding that thin, brittle hand until it went cold. The fever that had been smoldering in her for days flared viciously, but she forced herself to move. The first step was heavy as stone, the second even heavier. Audrey dragged herself to the first house on the street, where Mrs. Henderson had once given her candy when she was little. She knocked. The curtain stirred, a pair of eyes looked out, then vanished. No one opened the door. She kept going. The second house, where Mr. Miller had once told her she had her mother's eyes. She knocked. Silence. The third, the fourth, the fifth. The same script every time: curtains trembling, eyes turning away, and a terrifying quiet. Audrey understood. Veronica Kensington wasn't just the widow of a wealthy businessman. She had connections ordinary people didn't dare touch, names that were only whispered in the dark. No one in this neighborhood dared to anger her, not even with a small act of mercy like opening a door for the daughter who'd been cast out. The rain grew heavier. Audrey felt her head spin, her vision blurring as if she were looking through shattered glass. The fever burned her from the inside while the rain froze her skin from the outside. She didn't know how long she'd walked, how many streets she'd crossed, how many silent doors she'd knocked on. The silver box stayed clutched to her chest, the only thing still tying her to her father, to her past, to any meaning in being alive. Then she fell. Her knees struck the soaked road, pain flashing sharp, yet even that pain was nothing compared to the exhaustion swallowing her whole. Audrey tried to stand, collapsed, tried again. She no longer knew where she was going. Only that she had to move. ⚠️ DISCLAIMER: Welcome to Veronica Narration. This channel features original fictional stories created solely for entertainment and emotional storytelling. Fictional Content: All characters, names, and events depicted in our videos are products of imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead) or real-life situations is purely coincidental. Production: While AI technology may be used to assist with visuals or narration, the creative direction, scriptwriting, and storytelling are entirely guided and curated by humans.