
A joint probe by The Guardian and Investigate Europe has shone a harsh light on Santeda International, a Curaçao-based operation running an expansive illegal online casino network, one that's deeply intertwined with Georgian businessmen through Upgaming AG; these entities oversee unlicensed platforms like MyStake, Velobet, and Goldenbet, all aggressively courting UK gamblers while cleverly dodging self-exclusion tools such as GamStop. Data from the investigation reveals these sites pulled in a staggering 2.3 million unique UK visitors each month between November 2025 and January 2026, numbers that underscore just how deeply they've penetrated the British market despite operating without proper licenses.
What's interesting here is the sheer scale; observers note how such networks thrive in regulatory gray zones, particularly from Curaçao where licensing standards differ markedly from those in the UK, allowing operators to target restricted markets with relative impunity. The report, published in early April 2026, details how Santeda and its affiliates built this empire by exploiting loopholes, bypassing tools designed to protect vulnerable players who opt into self-exclusion schemes.
And yet, the story doesn't stop at exposure; following direct inquiries from The Guardian, Upgaming AG moved swiftly to cut ties with the network in March 2026, a development that highlights the immediate ripple effects of investigative journalism in this shadowy corner of online gaming.
Santeda International, registered in Curaçao, serves as the shadowy backbone for this operation, channeling funds and oversight through connections to Upgaming AG, a firm linked to Georgian nationals who provide the technical muscle; together, they've spun up multiple sites that mirror licensed casinos in appearance but operate entirely outside UK jurisdiction. MyStake, Velobet, and Goldenbet stand out as prime examples, each boasting sleek interfaces, generous promotions, and payment options tailored to lure British players frustrated with domestic restrictions.
Figures from the probe paint a vivid picture: 2.3 million monthly unique UK visitors across these platforms from late 2025 into early 2026, traffic that rivals major licensed operators and signals a booming underground economy. These sites don't just attract casual punters; they prey on those who've self-excluded via GamStop, a free national service that blocks access to UK-licensed online gambling, by simply not participating in the scheme and using mirror domains to evade blocks.
Take one observer who's tracked offshore gaming trends; they point out how such platforms often employ aggressive marketing via affiliates, social media, and SEO tactics optimized for UK searches like "non-GamStop casinos," drawing in players seeking unrestricted access. But here's the thing: while Curaçao's Gaming Control Board issues licenses for many operators, Santeda's setup skirts even those minimal requirements, operating in a truly unlicensed fashion that leaves players exposed without recourse.
At the heart of Santeda's deception lies Andres Markou, an AI-crafted CEO whose polished image and backstory grace the company's website, complete with fabricated interviews and professional headshots generated by advanced tools; researchers who've dissected similar scams recognize this as a common tactic to lend legitimacy to faceless operations. The Guardian's digging revealed Markou as pure fiction, a digital puppet designed to humanize an enterprise run by anonymous Georgian interests via Upgaming.
Turns out, this isn't isolated; experts in digital forensics have seen AI personas proliferate in illicit gaming, where real executives stay hidden to avoid accountability, and Santeda's version fits the pattern perfectly, right down to the scripted quotes touting "player-first" policies. Once confronted, the fallout was swift: Upgaming announced the severance in March 2026, distancing itself publicly, although questions linger about prior knowledge and the network's ongoing viability.
People who've studied cross-border gambling networks often discover these setups rely on layered corporate structures, with Curaçao holdings feeding into European tech providers, creating a web that's tough to untangle without deep investigation like this one.

The revelations have sparked outrage in Westminster, where Labour MP Alex Ballinger and Conservative MP Iain Duncan Smith have united in demanding tougher laws to shield UK players from such predatory operations; Ballinger, a vocal advocate for gambling reform, labeled the network a "clear and present danger" to vulnerable individuals, while Duncan Smith echoed the sentiment, urging regulators to close offshore loopholes that enable GamStop circumvention. Their bipartisan push, emerging hot on the heels of the April 2026 report, signals growing consensus on the need for enhanced enforcement.
So now, as Parliament debates these issues amid a rising tide of problem gambling stats—figures from the European Gaming and Betting Association highlight similar vulnerabilities across Europe—the pressure mounts for measures like expanded international cooperation and blacklisting of rogue domains. Observers note how MPs' interventions often catalyze change, as seen in past crackdowns on unlicensed betting rings.
One case that comes to mind involves a similar exposé years back, where political outcry led to swift domain seizures; those who've followed the beat know the writing's on the wall for networks like Santeda's, especially with traffic data this damning in hand.
UK gamblers, particularly those who've hit the self-exclusion button on GamStop, find themselves prime targets, since these sites ignore the database entirely and offer seamless deposits via e-wallets or crypto that licensed platforms restrict; data indicates millions have wandered into this trap, wagering without the protections afforded by UK oversight. It's noteworthy that the 2.3 million visitor figure doesn't even capture repeat users or those accessing via VPNs, suggesting the real engagement runs even deeper.
Yet, the human cost emerges in stories from affected players, who report chasing losses on these platforms only to face delayed payouts or outright vanishing funds once reality sets in; researchers from institutions like the Journal of Gambling Studies have documented how unlicensed sites amplify addiction risks, lacking mandatory affordability checks or reality filters. And while Santeda's network now faces scrutiny, copycats lurk in the wings, ready to fill any void left by Upgaming's exit.
Now, with the investigation fresh in April 2026, industry watchers anticipate a wave of domain blocks and affiliate purges, but the ball's in lawmakers' court to make these efforts stick long-term.
This Guardian and Investigate Europe bombshell on Santeda International's illicit empire underscores the persistent challenges in policing online gambling's wild frontiers, where Curaçao shells and Georgian tech wizards draw millions of UK visitors to unlicensed havens like MyStake, Velobet, and Goldenbet; the AI CEO charade, severed Upgaming ties, and MPs' rallying cry all point to a tipping point, one that could reshape how Britain tackles offshore threats bypassing GamStop. Data from the probe—2.3 million monthly uniques—serves as a stark reminder of the stakes, pushing for reforms that extend beyond borders. Those tracking this space know enforcement will ramp up, but until then, players navigate a minefield where the house always seems one step ahead.