they call her a nepo baby. every room she walks into, she can feel the whisper of her mother’s name before hers even lands. she was born into this industry with sandra bullock for a last name and hollywood for a playground. but what they don’t talk about is the way the doors never really opened—just stood there, waiting for her to prove she deserved them.

they think it’s easy. they think her life is some designer-scripted fairytale. but you can’t script self-doubt. you can’t schedule the ache of never being enough. they gave her roles, sure. but never credit. never space to be more than “her daughter.”

and then there was drew.

they met at a charity event, the kind of place where cameras flash before names are exchanged. he was all quiet charm and soft jawlines, the kind of boy girls pretend they don’t stare at. but she didn’t have to pretend. he stared first.

“you’re her, right?” he asked, already smiling. she nodded, prepared for the usual. but instead, he added, “i liked your last movie. not everyone could’ve made that character hurt like that.”

that was the beginning.

they kept it quiet for a while—not out of shame, but self-preservation. hollywood turns love into headlines and headlines into pressure. and the second they were seen together, the internet exploded.

“she’s using him now.” “drew starkey could do better.” “another nepo baby clinging to relevance.”

she read every comment. she stopped checking the tags. she almost started believing them.

but drew never flinched. never shrank from her when the world got loud. if anything, he got louder in his own quiet way—walking red carpets with his hand on her lower back, reposting her interviews with little hearts, tagging her in photo dumps without overthinking it.

the moment that changed everything? a gq interview. they asked him why he was dating her. he laughed, like the question itself was stupid. then said, “she doesn’t need me. she’s better than all of us.”

the internet froze.

even she froze.

because no one had ever said that before. not like they meant it. not without an edge of jealousy or backhanded praise. drew didn’t say it to make her feel better. he said it because he believed it.

now, people still whisper. still throw her name in with a sigh, like it comes with baggage. and maybe it does. maybe it always will.

but she’s not just sandra bullock’s daughter anymore. she’s the girl drew starkey can’t shut up about. the girl with a film premiering at venice next year. the girl who almost let the world’s opinion ruin her. and didn’t.

they call her a nepo baby. he calls her his girl. and for the first time, she calls herself enough.

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