After solving her first mystery, sixteen-year-old Jessica Prince—the niece of billionaire Henry Prince—thinks her sleuthing days are over. But during a charity auction at an art gallery in her hometown, the lights go out and an expensive painting is stolen before the thief leaves a white lily behind and escapes.

Jessica doesn’t know why her hometown is so spooked until Mayor Forrester explains the unsolved case of a group of thieves called the White Lily Society. They left white lilies in place of whatever they stole and vanished years ago, never to be seen or heard from again. It isn’t until Prince Manor is broken into and a white lily is switched for her grandfather’s bust that she realizes the thieves have returned—with a target on Jessica’s back.

As the thefts worsen and Jessica’s friends become the thief’s focus, she must once again rely on her love of mystery novels and observational skills to stop them before they hurt someone. But Jessica isn’t prepared for what she discovers—that the Prince family might know more about the White Lily Society than her Uncle Henry wants to admit.

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	PREORDER
GENRE Mystery	EBOOK Amazon Kindle Smashwords Nook Apple Google Play Kobo	PRINT Amazon
Available: August 17, 2026
Teen

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Excerpt

Chapter One

I stood in my walk-in closet at Prince Manor, trying on dresses in front of the large mirror. A pile of them sat behind me on the floor—ones too bright, too dull, too flashy. High heels, designer handbags, and jewelry were strewn around my room as though a tornado had struck.

But I had a good reason for the chaos. Me, Uncle Henry, and a few friends of mine had gotten invited to a charity auction this evening, right here in my hometown of Willowbrook, California. The whole town would be there—including my crush, Eric Worthington, Uncle Henry’s business rival’s son. I had to look perfect. Not just for him, but for the cameras, too.

“Ugh,” I muttered to myself. “I have nothing to wear!”

I glanced at the clock. It was almost seven p.m. which meant the charity auction would begin soon. I quickly decided on a pink chiffon gown—my favorite color—and paired it with white high heels, a diamond necklace, and a gold clutch. As I touched up my make-up and combed my long blonde hair, I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

“Come in!” I said.

Benjamin Clark—‘Ben’ to me—entered my room. He looked snazzy in a blue suit, black dress shoes, and a silver watch. He had attached a Star Trek pin to his breast pocket like a proud geek. It surprised me that he had agreed to come tonight, especially after the tense conversation we had in Milan. I had offered to buy him something extravagant, but he refused, saying that just made him feel like he was taking advantage of me. Sometimes I forgot how different our lifestyles were.

But no matter what, I’m just grateful to still have him in my life. He’s my closest friend and I couldn’t care less that he’s not rich like everyone else in town. It’s actually a relief that he doesn’t care about those things—that he likes me for me.

“Wow,” he said, looking at me and then the cluttered floor. “You look great. Your room on the other hand...”

“Sorry, it’s not usually this messy,” I said, clearing the dresses off my bed so he could sit. “You look great, too. You borrowed that suit from Uncle Henry, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah—which was nice of him, but I don’t think I belong at this charity auction. I mean, I don’t have the money to bid on anything, and it’s not really my kind of place...”

I smiled, walking over to him. “I know how you feel about this stuff, but it’d mean a lot to me if you came. I’m sure Uncle Henry will be busy socializing all night and I’ll have no one to talk to. Besides, you don’t have to bid on anything. Just enjoy the art and help yourself to the food.”

“Food?” Ben asked, perking up. “Well, maybe I could be persuaded...”

I laughed. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

“Anything for food. Anyway, Larry’s waiting in the courtyard. Mr. Prince asked me to come get you. Are you ready?”

I nodded, putting my smartphone and notepad inside my clutch. “I think so. Hey, do you remember the last time we dressed up? You borrowed Uncle Henry’s suit then, too.”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me. I never thought I’d be in another suit so soon again. Milan was pretty and all, but after that business with Carla and the Crimson Caper...well, I’m just glad it’s over.”

I nodded, remembering it vividly. A person in a red trench coat called the Crimson Caper had sabotaged Carla Valentine’s fashion shows. Much to my disappointment, I discovered she was the culprit all along. It was a ploy, along with her ex-husband and make-up mogul Lance LaDoux, to garner attention for her brand as an up-and-coming fashion designer.

As much as that hurt Uncle Henry—they’d gotten engaged many years ago and called it off due to their busy work schedules—I felt proud of myself for solving the mystery. As the weeks passed, I craved another one to solve, but I feared those days were long gone. Back to boring life in Willowbrook.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I said, turning to my nightstand drawer. “I can’t leave without my most prized possession!”

“What?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The latest Julia Joy novel,” I said, stuffing the novel inside my clutch. “Emily Pratt just released it last week. The books are set in the future, but in this one, Julia travels back in time to catch a criminal. I like to carry them around with me—like a good luck charm. It’s a reminder that I can solve any mystery with Julia Joy’s help.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think there’ll be any mystery tonight. Sounds like a boring evening of snooty art dealers and bidding millionaires. The food better be worth it...”

We passed the housekeepers on the way down the spiral staircase—some of them new employees, others old and near retirement. They knew we were leaving tonight and would watch over the mansion while we were gone. As we walked through the marble foyer, I spotted Uncle Henry and Larry Kibbler, our chauffeur, outside. Larry looked calm next to the limousine but Uncle Henry seemed nervous as he glanced at his watch.

“There you are,” Uncle Henry said as I walked outside. “I helped arrange the charity auction. It’d look rude if I showed up late, you know!”

“Sorry, Uncle Henry,” I said, reaching for the limousine door. “But I think I’m good to go. How are you, Larry? How’s your new granddaughter doing?”

Larry grinned. “Oh, just perfect—she’s everything my wife and I hoped for. You look lovely, Ms. Prince. Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yes, I—”

I touched my bare ear and gasped. Ben noticed and frowned. “You okay, Jess?”

“Earrings,” I muttered. “Be right back!”

“Jessica!” Uncle Henry scolded, but I was already running back inside as fast as I could in my heels.

Where was my head at tonight? I’d almost left without my Julia Joy novel and now I’d forgotten something as important as earrings! I needed to get it together. No more thinking about mysteries—for one night at least.

As I rushed up the stairs, I found my bedroom door slightly open. It was odd—I always left it closed to remind the housekeepers to stay out. I could keep it tidy on my own and didn’t want someone rummaging through my things. But then I heard the shuffling of feet inside and realized why the door was ajar.

Someone was inside my room.

My heart hammered as I opened the door all the way. “Who’s there?”

I caught one of the housekeepers near my walk-in closet. I didn’t know her name, but she looked new—someone Uncle Henry had recently hired to fill in after an old housekeeper retired. She had short red hair, freckles, and wore the standard black maid uniform. Her green eyes widened in surprise when she spun around and noticed me.

“Ms. Prince! Oh, you scared me,” she muttered. “I was just…tidying up in here.”

“Oh. You’re new, so you probably don’t know, but I keep the door closed for a reason. I like my privacy,” I said, hoping it hadn’t come out harsh. “So, thanks for cleaning up in here, but you don’t have to.”

“Okay, no problem,” she said, nervously. “Sorry to intrude. I’ll just be going now.”

I was about to ask her name but she rushed out of my bedroom before I had the chance. I thought it was strange but chalked it up to her being new and inexperienced. I quickly checked my closet, but nothing looked out of the ordinary—or stolen.

I sighed in relief. I was just being paranoid—there was no reason to freak out. I grabbed a pair of gold earrings to match my clutch and fled my room, locking the door on my way out. I deserved to have a good time tonight, so I pushed that weird encounter out of my mind and rushed to the limousine.

 

* * *

 

When we arrived at the Gotham Art Gallery, I spotted a red carpet that led inside. Other people had arrived already—like the Worthington’s, and I heard Uncle Henry scowl under his breath. Wayne Worthington, owner of Worthington Industrial, had brought his wife, Rebecca, and their cute football son, Eric. I blushed when I caught the outline of his bicep muscles through his suit.

They smiled and waved at the swarm of journalists outside the art gallery. Some reporters had passes to get inside while others had to stand outside all night, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rich and famous. A few police officers stood by the doors to keep the crowd in check. I didn’t see Sheriff Norman Clark—Ben’s father—but maybe that was for the best. He hated the Prince family with a passion. The Worthington’s made it past the shouting journalists, entering the art gallery before us. Good—maybe we could avoid them tonight.

Larry pulled up to the curb. “I’ll park around the back so you have an easier time getting out later. Ever since they crowded our limo in Milan, I haven’t been too keen on reporters.”

Ben took a deep breath. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I hate crowds—paparazzi, too.”

“Hey—don’t worry,” I said, reaching for his hand. “Just hold onto me. Everything will be okay.”

He smiled and nodded. The shouting started up again as I got out of the limousine first, followed by Uncle Henry and Ben. The lights were nearly blinding as we made our way down the red carpet. I made sure to keep my hand in Ben’s. Through all the shouting and clicking of the cameras, I made out some of the questions.

“Jessica, have you heard from Carla Valentine in prison?” one reporter asked.

“Have the Italian police thanked you for solving the case for them?” another shouted.

“What will you do now?” a reporter asked, trying to shove their microphone in my face.

“They’re obsessed with you, Jess,” I heard Ben mutter next to me. “Who knew exposing Carla as the Crimson Caper would make you so famous?”

“But you were there with me,” I said. “Why aren’t they shouting questions at you?”

“Because I’m not a Prince,” he said. “No one cares about me.”

“I do,” I replied, and he smiled at that.

A bodyguard opened the doors to the gallery and I breathed a sigh of relief as we left the pandemonium outside. Ben seemed relieved, too, releasing his painful grip on my hand. I didn’t like all those people shouting at me—and Uncle Henry looked uncomfortable at the mention of Carla’s name.

It was much quieter inside the art gallery. A flowing waterfall greeted us and I heard idle chit-chat of celebrities and millionaires. There were plenty of benches to rest on and gaze at the paintings on the walls. Servers walked by, carrying glasses of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Uncle Henry grabbed a glass while Ben reached for a piece of tomato bruschetta. I felt too nervous to eat—especially knowing Eric was there somewhere.

Uncle Henry checked his watch. “Well, we’ve got some time before the auction—”

A tall man with brown hair and thick black glasses walked over to us. He smoothed down his green vest and I noticed the press pass around his neck. He was a journalist—one of the lucky ones to get inside.

He held out his hand toward me. “Ah, Jessica Prince. So lovely to meet you.”

Uncle Henry blocked his hand so I couldn’t shake it. “We’re not talking to the press. How did you get in here, anyway?”

“Oh, Henry—don’t be so rude,” the man said, glancing back at me. “My name’s Jeremy Ritz. I work for the Willowbrook Gazette. Mayor Forrester let me in. He wants the event photographed so people will see the good work he’s doing. He helped this auction get up and running, too—and invited a lot of his rich friends to bid tonight. He’s hoping Willowbrook will remember that during the next election.”

Uncle Henry crossed his arms. “Uh-huh. Why are you talking to us again?”

Uncle Henry’s sudden rudeness surprised me. Why was he behaving that way? I glanced at Ben, also noticing his confusion.

Jeremy ignored him, adjusting his glasses. “I’d love to talk to you about the Crimson Caper, Jessica. Whenever you get a second, pop by my office at the Willowbrook Gazette. I’m looking forward to a juicy story!”

As he walked away, Uncle Henry scowled. “I don’t want you talking to any of those journalists—especially Jeremy Ritz.”

Uncle Henry didn’t say anything else, but it seemed like he and Jeremy Ritz knew each other. Jeremy called him by his first name as though they were old friends. And the energy between them was tense.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

Uncle Henry hesitated. “No...not really. I should mingle, but we’ll meet back up for the auction. Have fun, kids.”

I was about to chase him down and question him some more but I spotted Madison Carter and Tiffany Hampton in the crowd—two of my best friends. Madison’s family had won the lottery and moved to Willowbrook from Minnesota, then her parents had opened a soul food restaurant. As for Tiffany’s parents, they worked for Uncle Henry at Prince Enterprises.

I rushed over, wrapping my arms around the two of them. “Girls—you made it!”

“Of course,” Tiffany said, wiggling her silver heels before fluffing her fiery red hair. It matched her dress. “I had to show off my new shoes. Daddy bought them for me just for tonight!”

I grinned. “You look amazing. You too, Madison.”

Madison had dressed in her regular shade of black, dark eyeshadow, and maroon lipstick. “Thanks. Glad to see you made it, Ms. Famous. All those journalists outside harassed us for interviews. I guess news spread that we’re friends with the hottest sleuth in town. Don’t worry—our lips are sealed.”

“Good, thanks. I definitely don’t need any more attention.”

I spotted someone out of the corner of my eye—a man in his early twenties with a black leather jacket. He walked around the gallery without talking to anyone, sipping champagne and looking uncomfortable.

“Hey, who’s that?” I asked, pointing at him. “He’s cute.”

“Oh, that’s Dean Wallace,” Madison said. “He’s new to town. My parents just hired him to work at their restaurant. He’s a total loner—keeps to himself.”

“I wonder how he got invited. He looks out of place here,” Tiffany muttered. “Doesn’t he know it’s a black-tie event? And that jacket is so last year!”

Ben cleared his throat, walking over to us. “Hello, Madison and Tiffany. Nice to see you.”

Madison and Tiffany muttered a weak ‘hello’ at Ben and didn’t say anything else. I knew they didn’t like him. He was an outsider in town and the son of the sheriff to boot. Seeing it was awkward for him, I turned to the girls.

“Me and Ben are going to explore. We should catch up with Uncle Henry, too,” I said. “I’ll meet back up with you later.”

As we walked away, Ben sighed. “They just don’t like me, Jess. No use trying to make us friends.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” I lied, scanning the crowd. “Come on—let’s see who Uncle Henry’s chatting with.”

As we walked over, I noticed Uncle Henry speaking with Mayor Calvin Forrester. He was a balding, lanky man in his mid-forties who had been our mayor for as long as I could remember. The people in town admired him—especially the older residents.

“Mayor Forrester, nice to see you,” I said. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“Not at all, Ms. Prince,” Mayor Forrester said, smiling. “I’m glad you survived that whole ordeal in Milan, by the way. I didn’t know you had such a knack for solving mysteries.”

“Oh, Jess is the best,” Ben said. “It’s all those Julia Joy novels she reads, I bet.”

“I like mysteries, too,” Mayor Forrester said. “It’s one of my hobbies.”

“Speaking of hobbies, Mayor Forrester is very interested in Prince Enterprises,” Uncle Henry said. “Did you enjoy the tour I gave you last week?”

He nodded. “It was fascinating. Don’t tell the Worthington’s this, but…well, it’s clear why your company is doing much better than theirs. Your wealth is well-deserved.”

“Wealth we’re happy to give back,” Uncle Henry said, glancing at his watch. “The auction’s starting soon but I don’t see Mr. Morano anywhere. Jess, do you think you could find him while I finish talking to the guests? You do like a mystery, after all.”

“No problem,” I said. “Talk to you later, Mayor Forrester.”

“So, where are we looking first?” Ben asked as we walked away, glancing around the gallery. “Why do you think this Morano guy’s missing in action?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s an issue with the auction,” I said. “Let’s check his office first and work our way back.”

As we approached the offices down the far hallway of the gallery, I was about to knock on the door that read CHRISTIAN MORANO, OWNER. But then I heard shouting and crashing inside.

“Please, stop!” a male voice cried behind the door, and it sounded like Mr. Morano.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I muttered to Ben. “I think Mr. Morano’s in trouble. Come on!”

 

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