A glow leaked through the slatted blinds of a living room. Molly peered through with comic intensity, fists clenched around a silver cake server. Balloons floated lazily against the ceiling, strings tangled like messy webs of opportunity. She clicked her tongue: tonight’s jackpot sat beneath rainbow wrapping and feathery ribbons. Next to her, Bill adjusted his faux-hedge disguise, branches scratching against the sidewalk. Molly: "That cake gleams more than any safe in the city." Bill: "Presents first, pastries later—got it?" Molly: "This party’s our sparkling jackpot." His smile was equal parts excitement and terror. A chorus of giggles drifted from inside. It sounded like a choir of sugar-fueled toddlers. The duo counted gifts stacked high around a low wooden table: plush bears, remote-control cars, glittering boxes. Armed with stealth sneakers and a bulging duffel bag, they looked like suburban landscapers gone rogue. The streetlamp cast long shadows that seemed to point accusing fingers. Her heart thudded in sync with distant party music beats. Molly tested the back door handle. It gave way with a satisfying click. She nodded at Bill, who advanced on tiptoe, lifting a single leaf into place. Tonight, innocent childhood dreams would bankroll their next beachside hideaway.