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My name was Eve Lane, an unremarkable librarian. On my 25th birthday, I was told that I was the only granddaughter of William Lane, a billionaire who had gone missing years ago. The lawyer, Gary Chandler, handed me a will, and its contents were absurd. It said that I must choose one person to marry from the seven heir candidates designated by my grandfather, and only then could I inherit the entire fortune. The list was like a top-secret file containing the profiles of seven men. When I opened the first one with trembling hands, my pupils contracted sharply. The man in the photo, gentle as jade, was my university senior and also my ex-boyfriend, Alex Carter. Gary said expressionlessly, "Ms. Lane, all of them had a profound relationship with you. The rules are simple: choose the one you trust most. But beware; if you choose wrong, both you and your inheritance will become someone else's trophy." My heart sank. This was no inheritance game. It was a set tailor-made for me. Because those seven men were not only my ex-boyfriends, each of them knew only one of my identities. And all of my hidden personas were about to be stripped away, one by one, in this deadly game.