Molly pressed her back against the pastel pink exterior of the community center, her black tactical gear making her look absurdly out of place next to a poster advertising balloon animals. She peered around the corner at the gaggle of parents dropping off their sugar-crazed offspring. "This is our most ridiculous job yet," Bill whispered, adjusting his balaclava. A woman walking by gave him a suspicious look while clutching her toddler closer. "You said that about the pet store." "The pet store made sense! Designer puppies are worth thousands. These are just—" "Just presents worth an estimated fifteen grand, according to my intel." Molly checked her watch. The party had started twenty minutes ago, which meant the present table would be fully loaded. "That kid's parents are loaded, and everyone's trying to outdo each other with expensive gifts." Bill sighed, watching a man carry in a box that was definitely a gaming console. The wrapping paper had unicorns on it. He felt a twinge of guilt, which Molly must have sensed because she elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The sound of birthday songs and screaming children drifted through the open windows. Molly pulled out her phone, reviewing the floor plan she'd memorized. The present table sat in the back corner of the main hall, conveniently near the fire exit. Classic amateur mistake—they'd prioritized convenience for themselves over security. "What's our cover story if someone spots us?" Bill asked. Molly gestured to the large, empty gift bag she'd brought. "We're late arrivals. Look confident, move fast, and nobody questions anything." "Have you met suburban parents? They question everything." She ignored him, checking that the coast was clear. A harried-looking teenager emerged from the building, probably an overwhelmed party helper escaping for air. Perfect timing. Molly grabbed Bill's arm and they slipped through the closing door. Inside was chaos. Twenty kids ran in circles while a clown desperately tried to organize a game. Parents clustered by the snack table, engaged in what appeared to be competitive conversation about private schools. And there, gloriously unattended, sat the present table, stacked high with professionally wrapped boxes. They moved along the wall, smooth and purposeful. Bill's heart hammered as they reached the table. Molly began efficiently loading presents into her bag with the practiced ease of someone who'd done this too many times. "Excuse me, are you Aiden's parents?" They froze. A mom in expensive athleisure approached with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Molly's hand was literally in the cookie jar—or rather, wrapped around a Nintendo Switch. "No, we're with the entertainment," Molly said smoothly, not missing a beat. "Just moving these for the big reveal." "Oh, how fun!" The woman's suspicion melted instantly. "Brianna will love that." Bill nodded, unable to speak. They grabbed the remaining presents and backed toward the exit, maintaining their cover story smiles until they burst through the fire door into glorious freedom.