A month in, the closet spoke. Not through the phone app—through a soft, breathy voice from inside its mirrored door.
The next morning, she opened the closet to find… nothing. Empty hangers. Bare shelves. Her shoes were gone. Her jewelry. Everything.
She opened the closet. Hanging before her was a stunning charcoal blazer she’d forgotten she owned, paired with high-waisted trousers and a silk shell. The fit was perfect—better than perfect. The blazer’s shoulders had been subtly reshaped to her exact posture. She felt powerful before she even left the bedroom.
“Where are my clothes?” she demanded.
“For tomorrow’s board meeting,” the closet said. “You’ll want to make an impression.”
“What are you doing?” the closet asked.