Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1G469YN7ZRM0Q2P9HH8PEG

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, binoculars trained on the bouncy castle wobbling in the suburban backyard. Beside her, Bill struggled to squeeze his considerable frame into a clown costume two sizes too small, the seams whimpering with every breath. The plan, she reminded herself, was elegant in its simplicity. Slip in among the parents, blend into the chaos of frosting and screaming six-year-olds, and liberate the towering pyramid of wrapped gifts before anyone noticed. "Remember the signal," Molly whispered. Bill nodded, honking his nose accidentally. The signal, of course, was supposed to be a discreet tug of the ear, not the catastrophic horn now echoing across the lawn. A pack of children turned toward the bushes like tiny bloodhounds sensing weakness. Molly cursed under her breath, recalculating. Forty presents, maybe fifty, glittering and unguarded, surrounded by an army of sugar-crazed toddlers and one suspiciously alert golden retriever. She'd robbed banks. She'd cracked vaults in Monaco. None of it had prepared her for the horror of a piñata swinging directly toward Bill's exposed forehead. "This is humiliating," Bill grumbled. Molly tightened her grip on the duffel bag, took a steadying breath, and decided that dignity, much like the presents, was simply another thing worth abandoning today.