"HELP! POLICE! ASSAULT!" Karen bellowed, squeezing out dramatic, breathless sobs as she dropped to her knees on the turf. "THIS CRAZED GROUNDSWELL WORKER ATTACKED ME! HE ASSAULTED A DEFENSELESS WOMAN AND DESTROYED MY PRIVATE EQUIPMENT! SOMEONE CALL SECURITY AND THE GENERAL MANAGER RIGHT NOW!"

Before Karen could finish her theatrical screaming, the high-pitched hum of electric motors echoed down the path. Three high-speed security golf carts screeched to a halt at the edge of the tee box, carrying Mr. Harrison—the General Manager of The Grand Pines—along with two club security guards and two municipal police officers routinely stationed at the front gate.

"What is the meaning of this disruption?!" Mr. Harrison demanded, rushing onto the grass.

The moment Karen spotted the General Manager, her frantic wailing shifted into a trembling, quivering sob. She scrambled off her knees and lunged toward Mr. Harrison, clutching at his arm.

"Mr. Harrison! Thank goodness!" Karen gasped, pointing a shaking finger at Julian. "This unhinged groundskeeper barged onto my private photo set, hurled vile insults at me, and smashed my expensive custom club over that stone pedestal to intimidate me! Revoke his access and have these officers drag him to jail immediately!"

Mr. Harrison didn't look at Karen. Instead, his eyes landed on Julian, who was standing quietly while holding the broken carbon-fiber clubhead. Mr. Harrison turned deathly pale. He shoved Karen’s hands off his sleeve and bowed his head in deep, terrified respect.

"Mr. Vance!" Mr. Harrison stammered, his voice trembling. "I am so extraordinarily sorry, sir! Are you alright?"

Karen’s fake sobbing vanished instantly. "M-Mr. Vance? Harrison, are you blind?! He's just a low-tier guest in a cheap polo!"

"Silence!" Mr. Harrison snapped, turning on Karen with pure fury. "You are speaking to Julian Vance! He is the Founder, Chairman, and sole owner of The Grand Pines! He designed this entire course and owns every single blade of grass you just ruined with your cart!"

The color drained from Karen’s face so fast she looked like a ghost. Her jaw hung open in absolute silence.

"Furthermore," Julian said calmly, tapping a sleek terminal in his hand, "the light posts on the 18th hole are fitted with hidden 360-degree, 4K security cameras."

Julian turned the screen toward the police officers. The crisp video playback clearly recorded Karen driving her neon-pink cart over the protected green turf, shouting insults, snatching Julian’s $10,000 custom driver, and intentionally smashing it across the pedestal before dropping down to fake an assault.

"Officer," Julian stated coldly, "I am pressing full criminal charges for high-value property destruction, vandalism, and filing a false police report."

"Wait! No! It was an accident! I'll pay for the stick!" Karen shrieked, her voice cracking into a panicked squeak as the two officers pulled out steel handcuffs.

In a frantic, hysterical attempt to escape arrest, Karen turned, sprinted to her neon-pink cart, slammed her foot on the accelerator, and sped blindly across the turf.

However, in her wild panic, she failed to notice the steep decline leading toward the 18th hole’s central water hazard.

SPLASH!

The neon-pink cart plunged headfirst into the four-foot-deep, muddy pond.

A massive wave of brown water and green pond scum erupted into the air. Karen tumbled out of the cart, landing waist-deep in murky, algae-covered water. Her designer golf dress, gold bangles, and sharp bob haircut were instantly doused in thick, smelly green sludge.

Dozens of early-arriving club members standing on the nearby clubhouse balcony broke into roaring laughter, taking photos and videos with their phones.

Security pulled a coughing, dripping Karen out of the pond, and the police snapped heavy handcuffs onto her mud-soaked wrists right on the bank. Mr. Harrison handed her an immediate notice of permanent lifetime banishment alongside a $15,000 repair invoice for the damaged turf and destroyed custom driver.

Weeping, drenched in pond scum, and utterly humiliated, Karen was marched away in handcuffs while Julian casually selected a fresh club from his bag and prepared his next shot.