Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her fingers drumming against a half-empty coffee mug. Bill sat across from her, sketching intricate diagrams on a wrinkled piece of graph paper. "So you're telling me we're seriously going to rob a kids' birthday party?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. Bill didn't look up from his drawing. "Not just any kids' birthday party. This is the Harrington twins' eighth birthday bash. Their parents are loaded." Molly snorted. "We're stealing from children?" "Not stealing from children. Stealing from rich parents who buy ridiculous over-the-top presents," Bill corrected, sliding the diagram across the table. The blueprint showed a suburban backyard with multiple entry points, bounce houses, and what looked like an elaborate gift table. Little stick figures represented party guests and parents. "Those presents are probably worth at least ten grand," Bill continued. "Remote-controlled drones, gaming systems, designer bikes. This isn't petty theft, it's a strategic extraction." Molly traced her finger along the diagram. "And you've calculated the security?" "Meticulously. Two parents monitoring, one hired clown, three teenage helpers. Minimal actual surveillance." Bill grinned. "Plus, who suspects anything during a children's party?" "We do," Molly muttered. "Professional criminals who are about to commit the most morally questionable heist of our careers." Bill shrugged. "Moral is relative. These kids won't even remember half these gifts." The plan was absurd. Dressed as catering staff, they'd infiltrate the party, create a distraction, and systematically load expensive gifts into innocuous-looking equipment cases. Total estimated time: seventeen minutes. "What's our exit strategy?" Molly asked, taking a swig of cold coffee. "Catering van. Already rented under a fake company name. 'Sunshine Celebrations Catering'," Bill said, mimicking an overly cheerful voice. Molly rolled her eyes. "Subtle." "The more boring and official something looks, the less anyone questions it," Bill replied. "Psychology 101 of infiltration." She couldn't argue with that logic. They'd pulled off more complex jobs with less preparation. A children's birthday party was essentially a target-rich environment with minimal security. "Fine," Molly said. "But if we end up on some true crime podcast about the worst criminals in history, I'm blaming you." Bill's laugh was sharp and unexpected. "Imagine the headline: 'Thieves Steal Presents at Children's Birthday Party: Most Awkward Criminals Ever'." They clinked coffee mugs, a toast to their upcoming ridiculous adventure. The Harrington twins had no idea what was coming.