Elizabeth was dead. In his universe, at least. His Elizabeth was dead.
He had Anna, though; and he was happy.
Anna DeWitt was pretty ordinary. She couldn’t pick locks. She couldn’t open tears. She didn’t know how to break codes. She didn’t dance. She didn’t sing. She was Elizabeth’s exact opposite.
When Booker awoke in his office after “Elizabeth” had drowned him, he was shocked to discover Anna safe and sound in her crib. He had sworn, right then and there, that he would do anything to give Anna a better life than the one she’d had before. It was like God was giving him a second chance.
And he did. He tried hard, he worked late, and eventually he made enough money to buy a bigger apartment for the both of them.
But it still felt right, somehow—but even so, Booker still missed her.
He missed Elizabeth. His Elizabeth. Elizabeth, who had joyously celebrated her newfound freedom by dancing in Battleship Bay. Elizabe