Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her combat boots propped on the formica table. Bill was hunched over a crude diagram sketched on the back of a pizza box. "So you're telling me we're gonna rob a five-year-old's birthday party?" Molly asked, twirling a lockpick between her fingers. Bill adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. "Not just any party. This is the Jameson kid. His dad's a hedge fund manager. Those presents are gonna be top-tier." "Seriously? We're stealing from children now?" "Technically, we're liberating high-end merchandise from unsuspecting rich parents," Bill said with a wink. Molly snorted. "That's just stealing with extra words. What's the entry point?" Bill traced a line on the diagram. "Back patio. Bounce house provides perfect cover. We'll have a solid seven-minute window between cake cutting and gift opening." "And the security?" "Two grandmothers and an overworked clown. We've got this." Molly rolled her eyes. "This is officially the most ridiculous heist we've ever planned." "You said that about the retirement home job, and we cleared sixty grand in rare coin collections." "Fair point," Molly grinned. "When do we move?" "Saturday. Purple party hat. Be ready."