"You’re telling me we’re robbing a six-year-old?" Bill asked. "Seven," Molly corrected. "And his parents are billionaires. One Ferrari-themed birthday party equals infinite resale value on the secondary market." "What about the entertainment?" "Distraction. I’ll trip the clown, you grab the gift table." "The invitation specifically says the clown is six-foot-four and ex-military." "Then don’t trip him hard." "Why can’t we hit a bank like normal criminals?" "Banks have cameras. Birthday parties have crying parents and sugar-crazed toddlers running interference." "I’m severely allergic to gluten. There will be cake dust everywhere." "Wear the hazmat suit." "It’s neon yellow!" "Exactly. You’ll blend in perfectly with the bouncy castle." Molly checked her watch. "We go in at two, right after the magic show." "Molly, I saw the registry. There’s a piñata filled with thousand-dollar gift cards." "See? High stakes. Low security." "The guest list includes three FBI agents." "Their kids. They’ll be too busy wiping noses to notice us." "Fine. But if I get face paint on this balaclava—" "You can keep the leftover goodie bags." "Deal. Do we at least get cake?" "Only if you share." "What flavor?" "Vanilla with buttercream." "That’s the worst one." "Then steal faster and beat the rush." "I want the corner piece."