Molly adjusted her binoculars from behind the azalea bush, watching the chaos of Trevor Henderson's eighth birthday party unfold like a slow-motion cupcake explosion. Bounce houses wobbled dangerously on the uneven lawn, a clown was crying into his oversized shoes in the corner, and the present table groaned under seventeen Xbox boxes, four bicycles, and what appeared to be a life-sized stuffed giraffe that probably cost more than Bill's car transmission. The air smelled of cotton candy, desperation, and cheap balloon rubber. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking at a piñata while a toddler attempted to climb into the pool filter. "You're telling me," Bill whispered, scratching his neck through his fake beard, "that we're waltzing into that sugar-fueled riot as entertainment?" "Backup entertainment," Molly said, checking her clipboard. "The original magician quit after the birthday boy tried to saw him in half for real." Bill stared at the forged invitation. "We perform for thirty hyped-up children, grab the prizes, and escape through the kitchen?" "Exactly. Trevor's parents are security consultants with laser grids and a parrot trained to scream intruder alerts. But during the party? Complete access. Chaos is our cover." Bill adjusted his bedsheet cape with Sharpie stars. "I don't know magic." "You just distract them while I bag the loot." "What if they ask about rabbits?" "Tell them it's invisible." "I got kicked out of my niece's party for eating cake without a fork." "Perfect. They'll heckle you while I slip giraffes out the side door." "And the parents?" "Kitchen, drinking wine. We move during cake. Classic misdirection." Bill dropped his deck of cards. "Why not banks?" "Banks don't have piñatas full of gift cards, and kids have terrible eyewitness testimony. By tomorrow, the magician was seven feet tall." "If I get hit by a juice box, I'm doubling my cut." "Deal," Molly said, brushing leaves from her sequined jacket. "Remember: if anyone asks you to make something disappear, point at their manners." They marched toward the gate where screaming children and popping balloons created a perfect symphony of distraction. Molly carried empty duffel bags; Bill carried a wand from a pet store. The heist was on.