I reminded my daughter her tuition payment was due, and she snapped, “Ask Dad, he promised to cover it!” I called my ex, but he claimed he hadn’t spoken to her in months. Suspicious, I logged into her student account and felt my chest tighten. Every payment for the past year had been made by someone named N. Roque.
At first, I assumed it was a clerical error or maybe a distant relative stepping in. But none of the last names matched anyone in our family. It didn’t sit right with me. I’d raised Alina mostly on my own. Her father, Marcial, had a habit of swooping in with promises but rarely followed through. I wasn’t surprised he denied it. But I was surprised she thought he’d been paying.
I called Alina back. I kept it calm. “Sweetheart, who’s N. Roque?” She sighed like I was asking her the dumbest question in the world. “I told you, Dad’s friend. He’s been helping.”
“Helping how?”
“Mom, he’s just… nice, okay? He believes in me. He doesn’t make me feel guilty for needing help.”
That stung. I never tried to guilt her. I just wanted her to be responsible. Still, I bit my tongue. She hung up before I could ask more.
I decided to dig. I Googled the name. It brought up a LinkedIn profile for a Noel Roque, age 52, living two towns over. He worked in real estate, nothing flashy. But something about his profile photo—casual, friendly, and confident—made me uneasy. There was a warmth in his smile that felt oddly personal.
I sat with it for a few days. I didn’t want to seem paranoid. Maybe he was just a kind benefactor. Maybe her school had a program where alumni helped current students and it got registered under his name. But no, I’d helped Alina apply for aid. We would’ve known.
