Run: 2026-03-18-01KM094DHB0SET2932J862QTY8

Molly peered through the bakery window at the birthday hall across the street. “There it is, Bill. Balloons, streamers, tiny paper hats. The mother lode.” Bill adjusted his tie, which was really a length of ribbon. “You say that about every room with cake.” “Because cake is a treasure map.” “We’re here for the presents.” “Exactly. A room full of brightly wrapped loot, waiting for us to liberate it.” Bill frowned. “Liberate is what you call theft when you’re trying to sound philanthropic.” “Then stop objecting and start thinking.” Molly pointed at the entrance. “One clown. Two parents. A bowl of punch. Weak security.” “Children?” “They’re five. They’ll be distracted by sugar and chaos.” Bill leaned closer. “And our exit?” “Melt into the party, mingle, congratulate the birthday boy, and leave carrying the gifts like we belong there.” “We don’t belong there.” “Moral flexibility, Bill. It’s our brand.” He sighed. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I’m the uncle.” Molly grinned. “Perfect. I’ll be the aunt who shows up late and leaves with the flat-screen.”