To those scanning the corridors of fintech expos and regulatory roundtables, Ali Kassab might appear indistinguishable from the average founder: poised, articulate, and dressed for trust. With a productized pitch deck and a white-label payment brand called Freedom PSP, Kassab has managed to insert himself into industry conversations that range from digital onboarding to cross-border merchant payouts.
But speak to those who have worked with him — and especially those who trusted him with their settlements — and the portrait changes fast. Behind the manicured presence and polished business vocabulary lies a figure increasingly described by insiders as a fraudulent activity suspect. And behind Freedom PSP, according to mounting claims, lies a strategy centered not on innovation, but on systematic non-settlement of merchant funds, misleading representations, and the exploitation of legal gray areas.
“It’s like a shell game,” one source says. “You think you’re dealing with a tech innovator. But by the time you realize something is wrong, the money is already gone.”
Multiple merchants across Europe, the Gulf, and North America have stepped forward — cautiously and often anonymously — to describe a near-identical pattern.
“We signed up. It was quick,” one merchant recalls. “No red flags. He told us he had direct banking relationships. Our first weeks went smoothly. Then came the volume. Then came the silence.”
What followed was a slow erosion of confidence: settlement cycles that stretched beyond contractual timelines, support teams that stopped responding, refund requests that vanished into ticketing queues, and a founder who became increasingly evasive, defensive, and ultimately unavailable.
“We weren’t paid over €100,000,” one merchant confirmed. “He said the bank was freezing funds due to a 1% fraud issue. Then he said nothing could be done until ‘it cleared.’ But it was never about clearing — it was about never paying.”
What complicates the narrative further is how Freedom PSP positioned itself. According to merchants and partners, Kassab routinely cited connections to top-tier acquirers. In some cases, he appeared to leverage well-known banking descriptors to lend Freedom PSP the credibility of more established brands.
For instance, investigators have traced merchant processing to accounts held with Areeba under the ambiguous descriptor “The Expert”. In another case, TotalPay was used under the descriptor “Praxis” — a name identical to an entirely separate, highly reputable payment orchestration company. This mimicry, according to risk analysts, is deeply concerning.
“If someone is using a descriptor that misleads merchants into thinking they’re working with a recognized brand, that’s not just branding abuse — it’s a clear sign of potential fraudulent behavior,” says a compliance officer who reviewed the case anonymously.
Whether Kassab’s use of these descriptors was a deliberate act or a byproduct of working with downstream payment channels remains unclear. But as one insider put it, “He knew what he was doing. And merchants were drawn in because they thought they were dealing with Praxis.”
The smile does not give away the real face.
As the list of victims grows, so too does the list of shell companies and known addresses associated with Freedom PSP’s extended operations. At least one such entity is registered to 1-75 Shelton Street, Covent Garden, London, WC2H-GJǪ, with Fouad Nakhle listed as director.
“These entities don’t process,” one merchant told us. “They exist to deflect. When the questions start coming, he points to someone else. It’s a firewall. Nakhle is not some distant bystander — he’s actively involved.”
Several sources confirmed that merchant invoices were issued through these shell entities, each separated by geography and legal jurisdiction. According to one investigator, this distributed structure creates just enough distance to confuse law enforcement — and frustrate efforts to consolidate cases into a single claim.
Perhaps the most bitter element in the eyes of those affected is the lifestyle Kassab allegedly maintains in parallel to the financial harm experienced by his former clients.
“He says he’s a family man,” one merchant said. “But he’s living in luxury with his girlfriend, globe-trotting on what we now believe is our money. He posts family content to look stable. But in reality, he’s funding his image with the exact funds he refuses to settle.”
Photos shared by multiple sources show Kassab at industry events, high-end resorts, and retail destinations — even as refund requests go unanswered and merchants enter financial distress.
One merchant, who says they lost six figures to the withheld payments, said bluntly: “It wasn’t just the theft. It was the arrogance of him flaunting the proceeds.”
The story takes a darker turn when merchants begin talking about fear.
Multiple sources say that Kassab not only refused to communicate professionally, but escalated to intimidation when pressured. Several report being warned not to “make trouble,” and at least two merchants claim their families were mentioned in threatening ways.
“He told me not to involve lawyers or go public. He said things could ‘get very bad’ for me. I took that seriously,” one merchant revealed. “We’re not dealing with someone naïve. This is calculated intimidation.”
As a result, most affected parties are now communicating only with legal teams or the appropriate regulatory authorities. Names are being protected. Testimonies are redacted. But the pattern is clear.
While no formal charges have yet been announced, multiple legal teams in France and other jurisdictions are actively compiling evidence — from correspondence and statements to contract violations and payment trails.
One advisor working with the victims told us:
“We’re in early stages of coordination, but the case is strong. This isn’t one failed payout. It’s dozens. Across countries. With threats involved.”
Relevant authorities are being approached, particularly in regions where Kassab’s alleged fraudulent activity crosses into regulated financial operations. Though authorities have not commented on the matter, industry insiders confirm that the attention is rising — and that Freedom PSP is now a known concern in several compliance databases.
Despite all of this, Kassab continues to appear on stages and in panels. His LinkedIn remains active. His brand continues to operate. Which begs the question: why hasn’t the industry responded more forcefully?
One acquirer executive put it this way:
“The moment there’s no court filing, the moment there’s no press coverage, the system gives people like him a second chance. And a third. Until it’s too late.”
In some circles, Freedom PSP has already been flagged internally — blacklisted not through formal announcements, but via silent whispers and redacted memos. But for victims, that’s not enough.
“We lost everything,” one business owner told us. “And he’s still pitching like he’s a genius.”
Ali Kassab’s story is not an anomaly. In an age of sleek websites and instant onboarding, it is easier than ever to build trust through interface alone. But what Kassab represents — if the claims hold true — is something far more dangerous: the weaponization of credibility.
He did not hide in the shadows. He stood on stages, offered his hand, and presented himself as a bridge to global payments. Meanwhile, those who trusted him found themselves trapped — contractually, financially, and in some cases, fearfully.
For the industry, Kassab is a test: of whether clean branding can cover up deep-rooted misconduct, and whether those in fintech will speak out when one of their own crosses into dangerous territory.
As the evidence builds and more victims come forward, that test continues — in silence, in courtrooms, and soon, potentially, in public.
