Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0G6E50EA22GWJZ90GD7YB0

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the diner table, flattening it with a ketchup bottle and a half-eaten plate of hash browns. "Okay, Bill. Birthday party starts at two. Cake at two-thirty. Piñata at three. That's our window." Bill squinted. "Why the piñata?" "Because, genius, when twenty sugar-drunk kindergartners are swinging a baseball bat at a papier-mâché donkey, nobody's watching the gift table." "Fair point. Still feels wrong." "What feels wrong?" "Stealing from children, Molly. We used to hit casinos. Armored cars. Remember the Belgian diamond thing?" "The Belgian diamond thing was a disaster, Bill. You got bit by a swan." "That swan was trained." Molly tapped the blueprint. "Focus. The birthday girl is turning seven. Her name is Penelope. Her parents are loaded, and according to the invitation I swiped off their fridge, the theme is 'Enchanted Unicorn Wonderland.'" "So we're stealing unicorns." "We're stealing presents, Bill. Presents from people who grew up with trust funds. Presents still in the bag. Presents with gift receipts." "Gift receipts are the key, aren't they." "Gift receipts are the whole ballgame." Bill rubbed his jaw. "And how do we get in? Last I checked, I don't exactly look seven." "You're going as the entertainment." "Absolutely not." "Bill." "Molly, no." "You already have the costume." "That costume was for my nephew's christening and you know it." Molly pulled a crumpled clown wig from her purse and dropped it on the hash browns. "Honk-Honk the Clown. It's a solid cover. You juggle, you twist a balloon giraffe, you work the room. Meanwhile, I'm the caterer." "You can't cook." "I don't need to cook. I need to push a cart full of cupcakes past the gift table, swap the cart for an identical cart, and wheel out presents under a tablecloth." "Cart magic." "Cart magic." Bill stared at the wig. "What about the parents?" "Dad's on his phone the whole time. Mom's taking pictures for her lifestyle blog. The grandparents are day-drinking in the gazebo. The only real threat is the nanny." "What's her deal?" "Former Mossad." Bill choked on his coffee. "I'm sorry, what?" "Relax. She's on break at three-oh-five. I checked her Instagram." "You checked the Mossad nanny's Instagram." "She posts a lot of matcha lattes. Very consistent schedule." Bill picked up the wig and held it like a dead rat. "And after we grab the loot?" "Van's parked behind the bounce castle. We drive to the strip mall, hit three different stores with the gift receipts, walk out with clean cash by dinner." "And if something goes wrong?" "Then you squirt somebody with the flower and we run." "The flower's out of water." "Then fill it, Bill. Details matter." Bill sighed, pulled the wig onto his head, and looked at Molly with the dead eyes of a man who had made peace with his life choices. "Honk honk," he said. "That's the spirit."