Night air sailed between row houses. A white picket fence stood silent beside colorful balloons glinting through living room glass. They crouched behind a planter box, hearts thrumming. “Molly, do you copy?” Bill whispered, “Loudly, genius.” “The cake is on a revolving stand,” Molly murmured. “Perfect for grabbing two at a time.” A security camera blinked like an unblinking eye. “Got a blueprint of the layout?” Bill tapped a tablet, grinning. “Right here. Living room opens into dining, then patio.” The party chatter and clinking dishes drifted through curtains. “We hit dining first, stash gifts in our duffel?” “Then straight to living. Decorations don’t matter.” Molly adjusted her earpiece. “You think the dog will bark?” Bill scanned the yard. “If he does, I’ve got treats taped to my cuff.” A distant clock struck eight. “Now,” Molly breathed. “Move.” They slipped through a side gate, shadows swallowing them. “Remember the pan by the window sill,” Bill hissed. “I’ll distract with a rattle and squeak.” A strewn toy spilled across the porch. “Brace yourself,” Molly warned, “party horn might blow.” Bill swallowed. “In three… two… one…” Silence fell, heavy as a sack of plush toys. “Now, gifts.” “Quarter million dollars in toys.”