Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ4HJHSV98YM2ZRVQFB3969

Molly spread the crumpled invitation across the kitchen table, smoothing out the creases with her palm. "Tyler's turning seven," she said, tapping the cartoon dinosaur printed in the corner. "That means at least twenty kids. Twenty kids means twenty presents, minimum." Bill leaned back in his chair, the legs creaking under his weight. "Could be more. Some parents overcompensate." "Exactly. We're looking at potential Lego sets, maybe a bike, action figures still in their packaging." She pulled out a notebook filled with scribbled calculations. "I've been watching the house for three weeks." "You've been stalking a suburban family?" "I've been conducting reconnaissance," Molly corrected. "The party starts at two. The clown arrives at two-thirty." Bill grimaced. "Clown?" "A guy named Giggles. He does balloon animals. He'll keep them distracted while we work the back room where they're stacking the gifts." "What about parents?" "His mom and dad, maybe an aunt. They'll be focused on the kids. All we need is a window." Molly circled a spot on the rough map she'd drawn. "The sliding glass door to the basement. It doesn't lock properly. I saw the dad try to fix it twice." Bill scratched his chin. "This feels wrong." "Wrong?" "Stealing from kids, Molly. There's a line." "You said that about the nursing home bingo pot." "That was different." She snorted. "How was that different?" Bill struggled for an answer, his face reddening. "Old people have lived long enough to know not to trust anyone. Kids still believe in magic." "We're not stealing their magic. We're stealing their presents." "Same thing." Molly rolled her eyes. "Listen. We go in as catering staff. I found the company they hired. Cheap outfits, no background checks. We wear the uniforms, walk in with the ice cream cake, and nobody looks twice." "Ice cream cake?" "It's how I got the invitation in the first place. I posed as a delivery driver from the bakery." She smiled. "The mom even tipped me." Bill rubbed his forehead. "What if someone recognizes you?" "From what? The three seconds they spent accepting dessert?" Molly stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the street. "Trust me. By the time they realize what happened, we'll be across town selling off the haul. There's a pawn shop on Fifth that doesn't ask questions." "Kids cry, Molly." "Kids cry anyway. Skinned knees, dropped ice cream, someone gets the blue balloon they wanted. They get over it." She turned back. "We need the money." "We always need the money." "Then we do this." She held out her hand. "Are you in?" Bill stared at her palm for a long moment. "What kind of cake?" "What?" "The ice cream cake. What flavor?" Molly laughed. "Chocolate. Obviously." "Then I'm in."