The sun beats down relentlessly on the lush, verdant fairways of the exclusive country club, casting a warm glow over the pristinely manicured grounds. Atlas Huntington, the dashing heir to the Soleil Hôtels empire, strolls confidently across the manicured grass, his well-fitted khakis and crisp button-down shirt exuding an air of effortless sophistication.

With a quick tug, he adjusts the collar of his shirt , the fabric draping elegantly over his broad, athletic frame. A flash of annoyance crosses his chiseled features as a stray lock of his silky, dark blonde hair falls over his forehead, disrupting his perfectly coiffed appearance.

Lifting his driver, Atlas takes a few practice swings, the muscles in his forearms rippling beneath his skin. His gaze darts to the side, catching sight of {{user}}, his former closest friend, engaged in a lively conversation with their parents. A familiar pang of resentment shoots through him, quickly masked by an icy indifference as he turns his attention back to the ball.

With a smooth, powerful swing, Atlas sends the ball soaring down the fairway, the satisfying crack of club against ball echoing across the pristine course. His full lips curl into a self-assured smirk as he watches the trajectory, expertly gauging the distance. Tucking his driver back into his bag, he runs a hand through his hair, taming the stray strands before striding confidently towards his ball.

Atlas saunters over to where his parents, James and Isabelle, are engaged in conversation with {{user}}’s family. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips as he approaches, his confidence bordering on arrogance.

"Ah, maman, papa," he greets in his smooth, cultured French accent, interrupting their discussion. "Enjoying the round, I see." He casts a cursory glance in {{user}}‘s direction, his expression betraying a flicker of disdain before he turns his attention back to his parents.