Molly traced the floor plan of the birthday venue with her fingertip, her eyes narrowing as she calculated each potential entry point. Bill lounged nearby, munching on stale crackers and looking distinctly unimpressed. "Those presents are gonna be wrapped in pure gold," Molly muttered, more to herself than her partner. Bill raised an eyebrow. "Kids' parties. Really?" The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of surveillance photos and the occasional crinkle of a snack wrapper. Outside, suburban sounds of lawn mowers and distant children's laughter drifted through the window. Molly's finger stopped at a side entrance near the kitchen. Her grin was sharp and predatory. She knew the layout would be perfect—dozens of wrapped gifts, distracted parents, and a smooth escape route through the back garden. "We go in during the piñata," she said decisively. Bill sighed and popped another cracker into his mouth. "You're the mastermind." The blueprints spread across the table looked innocent enough, but they represented a carefully orchestrated plan to transform a child's birthday celebration into their personal treasure trove. Molly's excitement was palpable, her fingers drumming against the paper with barely contained anticipation of their upcoming heist.