Run: 2026-03-09-01KKAC9VKERJ1VD0JVN0MFGBWX

Molly crouched behind the garden wall, studying the inflatable castle with the solemnity of a jeweler appraising cursed diamonds. Beyond it, children ricocheted across the lawn in paper crowns while parents hovered near the buffet, distracted by prosecco and small talk. A banner reading HAPPY SIXTH, OLIVER snapped above a mountain of presents stacked beside the conservatory doors like tribute for a tiny king. "Bill, we go smiling, leave carrying loot." "Wonderful," Bill muttered. "Nothing suspicious about adults admiring wrapping paper." He adjusted his clip-on bow tie, which made him look less like a guest and more like a waiter who had recently escaped captivity. Molly, in a cardigan patterned with ducks, balanced a tray of sausage rolls she had stolen from a different party three streets over. The tray was their passport; the cardigan, their camouflage. At her signal, they waddled through the gate with cheerful purpose. Children ignored them instantly, the highest form of acceptance. Bill drifted toward the gift pile, humming party music. Molly intercepted a grandmother, accepted directions to the loo, and winked at Bill. "Cake first, then crime, Bill." Then he vanished behind the presents, emerging later beneath ribbons, lugging enough birthday joy to bankrupt Santa.