The ballroom of the *Sugarplum Palace* was a nightmare of pastel chaos—streamers drooped like defeated party hats, and a piñata shaped like a unicorn hung from the ceiling, its stuffing already half-gutted by some overzealous five-year-old. Molly adjusted her "party planner" nametag (stolen from a real one earlier) and sidestepped a rogue cupcake that had rolled into her path like a tiny, frosting-smeared landmine. Bill, disguised as a magician’s assistant—complete with a sequined vest that made him look like a rejected *Magic Mike* extra—was crouched behind a table of half-eaten cake, muttering to himself. "The presents are in the *green* room," he hissed, jabbing a finger toward a door guarded by a kid in a superhero cape who was currently licking glitter off his palms. "But the *green* room is also where they keep the *piñata refills*, and if we trigger the alarm, we’re gonna have twenty sugar-high kids screaming ‘THIEF!’ at us while their parents film it for TikTok." Molly plucked a gummy worm from a nearby platter and chewed thoughtfully. "So we create a distraction. Something *big*." She nodded at the unicorn piñata, which swayed ominously above them. "You ever seen what happens when you set one of those things on fire?" Bill’s eye twitched. "You want to *burn down a children’s party*?" "Not the *whole* party," Molly said, waving a hand. "Just the *symbolism*." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter. "Think of it as… performance art." Bill groaned, but he was already eyeing the exit routes. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m telling them *you* promised them each a pony."